


Beautiful Peace

by blackbirdfly0128



Category: Beautiful Disaster Series - Jamie McGuire, Supernatural
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Found Family, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Multi, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Strangers to Fuck Buddies, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:34:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 25,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23075590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackbirdfly0128/pseuds/blackbirdfly0128
Summary: "And the pieces left that love has changed just saved everything"Sam, Adam, and Jo are fresh out of high school. Dean is fresh out of the heartbreak of circumstance. Together with their parents, the family packs up and moves to the small college town of Eakins, Illinois, just praying for some quiet time to be together. Away from Lawrence. Away from him.But the Maddoxes don't do quiet, and they may just be exactly what Dean's been looking for.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Ellen Harvelle/Bobby Singer, Jo Harvelle/Shepley Maddox, Travis Maddox/Abby Abernathy, Travis Maddox/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	1. "And The Details Quiet"

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! This story has been over a year in the making, and I am so excited to finally share it with you all! I cannot promise regular updates, I can promise that this fic will not be abandoned. I love this universe too much to let it die. Now, a few things:
> 
> 1\. Many thanks to my wonderful beta @anamnesisUnending for helping bring this story to life. Your insights have been invaluable, as has your friendship :) If you're into The Penumbra Podcast, or even if you aren't, I highly recommend their work (right here on AO3!).
> 
> 2\. All chapter titles are inspired from Mayday Parade song lyrics. They are my third love and I have no apologies. If anyone is interested in a playlist with all the songs used in this fic, I would be more than happy to create and share :)
> 
> 3\. If you're here for Supernatural...this fic is an AU set in the universe of the "Beautiful Disaster" series by Jamie McGuire, but with a familiar origin story. If you're looking for creepy crawlies...you may have to wait a bit. But if you're unfamiliar with McGuire's work, that's okay! I have (hopefully) written this fic in such a way that you'll have all the information you need. I'd be happy to fill in any blanks, though!
> 
> 4\. If you're here for the Maddox brothers...this universe will look very familiar, told from the perspective of someone new. The family you know and love take a central focus in this story, and make some new friends along the way. And if you've never seen an episode of Supernatural, that's okay, too! Again, I have tried to write this in a way that covers all requisite background knowledge. As always, I would be more than happy to clarify any questions.
> 
> and finally...
> 
> 5\. If you're here for some Dean/Cas...sorry?
> 
> Happy reading!

_So keep it coming and the details quiet. She’s like a ghost that keeps you up all night and she’ll be a secret you can keep. Keep me, keep me_ \- “Ocean and Atlantic” by Mayday Parade

When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was CCR playing quietly over Baby’s radio. “Bad Moon Rising.”

 _Shit_ , I thought. _Not again._

I’ve had this nightmare more times than I can possibly count: Cas and I on the road, just letting the quiet float around us as we listen to the radio. It’s always this same goddamn song. Then Cas gets this panicked look on his face, and before I can even get the words “What’s wrong?” out, I feel a sharp jerk to the right, and everything around me goes dark.

This is just like it was that night; peaceful until it isn’t. Except this time, Cas is trying to tell me something.

He’s been doing that more lately, trying to talk to me in the nightmare, but tonight I just tune it out. I can’t even look at him. I don’t want to see his messy hair or his piercing eyes. I don’t even know where he got that fucking trench coat, or why he was wearing it in May, but I know that if I try to look tonight, I’ll regret it.

I never hear what he was trying to tell me. I wait for the sharp pull and the breaking glass, and I wake up feeling more like a traitor than I did the day before, which I didn’t think was possible.

\-----

It’s August now, and that’s supposed to be a good thing. The triplets are starting classes at the University in a few days, and we’re all _finally_ moved in to our new places. God, that took a while. But now Mom and Dad are settled in their new house; Sam, Adam, and I are in the apartment; and Jo is in her dorm. Everything is supposed to be good now.

After all, we finally made it out.

“Triplets” is more an affectionate nickname rather than a factual term. I guess the real thing is “twins plus one.” We aren’t even related to Jo; or at least, not by blood. Not that blood relatives ever got us very far in life. Mom is dead, and John, well…anyway.

Bobby saved us. He deserves to be called Dad more than John ever did. And Ellen saved us too, but in a different way. We call her Mom because it would be weird not to, but it feels right, too. But it wasn’t our first mom that we needed rescuing from.

When Sam and Adam were six months old, there was an electrical fire in their nursery back home in Lawrence, Kansas. Mom never made it out of the house, but I’m convinced that’s where John died, too. He was never whole again after that. It was like he was walking around for years with one eye shut; he had no depth perception.

Of course, that could’ve been related to the booze.

I don’t remember much of John being sober. I think he liked using the whiskey as an excuse to lash out and then pass out before he could put any thought into what exactly he was looking for. He probably thought he could find it at the bottom of his hundredth bottle of liquor, but he passed that by the time I was ten, so who knows.

Bobby wasn’t blind to what was happening with John. He kept an eye on us while my dad was working at the garage; he had set up a little play pen for his girlfriend Ellen’s daughter in the office, so it gave us a place to go. When Bobby and Ellen got married a few years later, all three of us were in the wedding. The twins were ring bearers, and I had to stand in as Bobby’s best man at the last minute. John never showed up.

When I told Bobby I would do it, he looked down to me with a watery smile.

“Thank you, son.”

I think that was the first time anyone had ever called me that. _Son_. I don’t think it would’ve sounded right coming from John, but it did when Bobby said it.

He said it again, too, when we showed up to his place That Night, a pile of broken, bloody kids. We had nowhere else to go, so I stole the keys to the Impala and got us the hell out of there as fast as I could. Sam didn’t say a word the whole night, but Bobby and Ellen cleaned us up and called the cops. They’d wanted to for years. John went to prison. The adoption went through almost overnight. It felt like I could breathe for the first time without being afraid of being punched in the gut for my trouble.

No concussions. No broken bones. No tripping over broken beer bottles.

I couldn’t believe it. We were finally safe.

When we moved to Bobby and Ellen’s house permanently, we had to transfer schools. Honestly, after everything, that was the least stressful change that the three of us went through.

Though I guess that would be hard to tell. Sam has barely spoken since that night, and Adam is just a perpetual ball of rage. I swear it’s almost like there is a constant stream of smoke funneling out of his ears. I think he’s too angry to worry about much of anything else. He’s definitely too angry to talk about it.

But changing schools was definitely good for me. Hell, it was fantastic. It’s not like I didn’t like my old school. Sure, I didn’t really have many friends there, and the teachers were fine I guess, but there was one thing at my new school that my old one didn’t have: him.

Cas. 

After that night with John, I was just trying to keep my head above the water, but that kid was my fucking life raft. I was a shell and he was just _so_ alive. All blue eyes and wild hair and _alive_. He could look at anything and find the life in it, and I know that’s true because he found it in me, too.

And when he died, the fragment of life that he found in me died, too. I know it did.

It was Memorial Day. We had been at the triplets’ graduation party at our Mom’s bar, The Roadhouse. They were all set to leave for college in the fall: Eastern University in some middle-America town in Illinois. I didn’t really care- once you’ve lived in one middle-of-nowhere place you’ve lived in them all. But the kids weren’t the only ones leaving. All of us were picking up and moving too. Our dad’s garage had another location near the school, and friends of Mom’s were packing up and moving out, leaving the local bar without an owner. It was actually kind of perfect.

Cas and I even had a place picked out, with enough bedrooms for the twins to stay with us if they wanted. And when I wake up in bed without him, in the home we were supposed to share, I feel sick to my stomach for it. I feel like a traitor in my own sheets, itchy in my skin. There’s no way to get comfortable.

It’s always worse when I dream about him. Last night, I couldn’t even look at him because I couldn’t let myself have my fill of him and then leave him again, so I wake up with a sour taste in my mouth to the smell of burnt bacon wafting in from the kitchen. It’s the same every day now: I wake up, drift through getting the boys ready for school (because they _will_ eat breakfast, goddamnit), go to work, run errands, and come home. We have family dinner at Mom and Dad’s every Sunday, no exceptions. It was a condition for being able to live on our own; we had to make the time to see Mom and Dad every week. As if I don’t see Dad every day at work, or Mom every few days at the Red.

“Outside of work,” she always says. I never argue.

Rubbing a hand over my face to wipe the sleep from my eyes, I eventually sit up in bed. The bed is old and creaky, and there are band posters covering the walls. There’s trash littering the floor that missed on its way to the trash can. There are clothes poking out from dresser drawers and spilling out of the hamper. The whole room is like an extension of who I am now: a mess, and content that way, because it’s hard to remember how to be anything else.

The burning smell is getting pretty strong and I can hear the twins arguing over something. Or at least, I can hear Adam yelling about something, so there’s a chance that nothing is wrong at all. Adam’s new normal is shouting. It makes up for Sam’s silence. It’s been so long, I’m not sure it will ever go away. I push the sheets out from under me and swing my legs over the side of the bed to rest heavily on the floor. There’s a wallet-sized photo of my mom propped against the lamp in my room. I’m too afraid to really touch it, so I just ghost my fingers over the sides every morning.

“I’m gonna watch out for them, Mom. I promise.” I whisper, heading out the door to the kitchen.

Unsurprisingly, things are tense in the car on the way to classes. The campus is too far away for them to walk when it’s this hot out, and neither Sam nor Adam have saved up the money to buy their own car. That means a few things:

· Riding with me

· Which means riding with my music

· Talking about whatever the hell is going on (as best we can)

“Okay, out with it.”

Sam sinks lower in his chair, and Adam sits straighter, leaning forward and putting his arms against Baby’s front bench. I swat his arm down with my hand and he sits back in his seat, but keeps his head cocked just so.

“Sam’s been talking to _Eileen_ ,” he sneered from the backseat, wearing a shit eating grin on his face. “She’s coming to Eastern, too.”

I have to remind myself not to slam on the breaks. “Seriously?!” I ask, body turned towards Sam. “She’s here?” He doesn’t try to deny it. He just keeps his eyes trained carefully on the windshield, but I don’t miss the blush that starts to creep up on his cheeks. _Thank fuck_.

“And Sam ‘ _can’t wait to see her_ ,’” Adam adds, with a mocking-dreamy voice.

Sam shoots up in his seat. “Shut the hell up, Adam.” His voice is like ice. It burns.

Just then, I pull up to the curb outside their building. Sam bolts out the door before I have the chance to say anything, and Adam exits leisurely behind him, heading in the opposite direction towards his class across campus. I pull back out onto the main road towards work.

It’s just like any other day here: Adam would burn breakfast, I would fix it, and there would be something to fight about on the way to orientation (and now classes) that I could worry about on the way to work. Inevitably, by the end of the day, Sam would add a new layer to his silence and Adam would get more creative in his bitterness and we would all find our way to the bar. Every day is the same in the life of a ghost.

But not now—now, Eileen is here. That means maybe, just maybe, things will start looking up for Sammy.

That’s all we ever wanted.


	2. Trying to Forget

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter for you all! I know I said I couldn't promise regular updates but coronavirus in my final semester of college has left my anxiety absolutely spinning so I need some consistency...how do weekend updates sound to you all? I'd love to hear what you all think of the story so far!

_If you really love me then write about how you never want to live without this broken boy who keeps on trying to forget_ \- “Nothing You Can Live Without, Nothing You Can Do About” by Mayday Parade

“She’s _here?_ ” my dad asked again, wiping the sweat from his brow with an old rag while we worked on a tricky engine. “Thank fuck.”

“I know.”

“About time that kid got something good.”

I couldn’t agree more. Eileen Leahy was possibly the best thing that happened to my little brother. She was our neighbor for a few years when the twins were little, before we moved in with Bobby. Sam and Eileen were instant best friends, but we all loved her. She and Jo would give Kool-Aid dye jobs to their punk Barbie dolls. She was always ready for a soccer game with Adam. She was a year older than them, too, so she had that innate need to look after all of them. I liked her. She helped focus our chaos.

But even when they were just kids, I knew that Sam and Eileen were the other halves of each other. No one ever made him laugh like she did, when they would act out scenes from their favorite mystery novels. He had a light in him when she was around. When we moved away, they tried to stay in touch, but then her grandma died and she dropped off the map for a little while. We never really found out why. I’m so fucking glad she’s back.

Maybe she can help Sam. I don’t know what would be best for him: to talk again, or find a way to sit better in the silence. It still feels foreign and awkward, the way he moves through conversation. We’re still waiting on him to speak. Not the random interjections he’ll do sometimes, I mean _really_ speak. Some wounds never heal, but maybe Eileen can help him with the scars.

I hope she can help all of us. _Christ_ I’ve missed her.

I think it was just easier with Eileen, for him. He can’t speak, and she can’t hear. It’s like there are just no expectations with them. Like he could just breathe around her in a way he couldn’t around the rest of us. She made everything better. You could tell just by watching her look at him—she never wanted to look anywhere else; or at least, she didn’t want to. How fucking lucky are we? She’s a spit fire. She can give as good as she gets—Lord knows she’s had to, the life she’s had—but for every ounce of defiance in her there’s one of peace and reverence. You just can’t see it until Sam’s with her. It’s like she’s a firecracker and Sam settles her down to embers. Where Sam is a mouse, she makes him into a lion, and he isn’t afraid anymore. It doesn’t make sense—nothing has in years—but _they_ do. And this gift horse? I’m not looking for fucking teeth.

When Sam texted me later asking if Eileen could join us for dinner, I had to try my hardest not to roll my eyes. I showed Dad, and he whipped out his phone right away.

Dad: If you don’t bring that girl over tonight I will make you come over and wash my dishes every night for a month.

Sam: I don’t live at home anymore, Dad

Dad: Do I sound like I’m joking?

A few minutes later, Sam sent another message that had the two of us chuckling while we worked.

Sam: We’ll be over by 6

Looking at the clock on the wall, I could see it was pushing 5:00.

“Shit, we better get going. I need to shower before Eileen comes over,” I said, hurrying to clean up my work station. “You coming, Dad?”

“In a little while. We’ve got someone coming in to interview for that receptionist position so your mom can focus more on the bar.”

“I thought Jo was handling that.”

“Come on, now. You know that Jo has hated this job ever since she started. She’s gonna be here part-time til she can find another gig. In any case, we still need someone at the desk. Hell, I’m ready to hire him sight unseen.” Dad said, sounding defeated.

“Alright, well I’ll let Mom know you might be running a little late.”

When Sam and Eileen finally made it to our parents’ house, I was ready to bounce off the walls, I was so excited. It’s not that I don’t like my parents’ house—it’s in a good neighborhood, they seem to have sane neighbors—but it’s never really felt like a _home_ yet, since we moved. I think Eileen was the missing piece. Nothing has felt quite right since she left.

When they walk in, Sam is practically beaming, and making no attempts to hide his excitement.

_Good,_ I think. _He shouldn’t have to_.

“So I guess the month of dish-washing duty didn’t sound too appealing, huh?” I say, cracking my best shit-eating grin. My hands are a bit clumsy as I try to sign, though, and I feel guilty I haven’t been practicing more.

“No,” Sam chuckles, and I can see him practically itching to be attached to her side, “It definitely didn’t.”

Most people in Dad’s situation probably would have threatened _Or I’ll drag you by your ear_ or _Or I’ll clock you over the head_. We don’t do that in our family. Physical threats, however innocently intended, don’t really sit well with Sam. Or any of us, if I’m honest. Not anymore.

“Any of you hear from Adam?” Mom asks as she makes her way into the living room. Whatever is cooking in the kitchen smells fucking delicious.

We all shake our heads and she shrugs, unsurprised.

“We did see him going to look at some fraternity tables during lunch today, though. Maybe he’s with them” Eileen adds with a shrug.

In any case, a few minutes later Dad is coming down from his shower to greet Eileen just as the chili Mom made finishes cooking and we all sit down to eat.

Dinner is going great—we’re all laughing and making Sam blush (it really is too easy for that kid), and Eileen takes it all in stride. She has this easy confidence about her, like all she needs in life is good chili and good company to make her happy. I know we’re all hoping Sam is on that list, too, because she’s certainly on ours. It’s nice seeing Sam smile again, even if he still isn’t really talking. I think that’s part of why the two of them work so well together; Eileen uses Sign Language a lot of the time, which Sam never forgot, and so Sam doesn’t really _need_ to talk when he’s around her. In fact, signing is actually way easier for both of them to use. It’s like John beat the voice right out of him.

Well, fuck. Why didn’t I think of that before?

As we’re getting ready to clean everything up, there’s a huge bang as the front door is pushed in. We all startle at the commotion, and Eileen gives us all a confused expression.

_The front door_ , Sam tells her.

Just then, we hear the door close and Adam comes stumbling into the dining room reeking of booze. His clothes are dirty and disheveled, and he looks like he’s been walking for miles in the dark. It’s a miracle he made it home in one piece; as it is, he’s barely standing.

“Sorry I’m late!” he slurs loudly, leaning on the doorway. I can see Dad roll his head on his shoulders and take a steadying breath. We know what happens when Adam goes on a bender—he loses his shit, lashes out, and expects us all to abandon him. We’ve tried for years to get the kid into therapy but he just won’t go. At least Sam gave it a try before deciding he wasn’t ready; Adam just refused. He wants an excuse to be angry, to be proven right about all these insecurities he has. All the justifications he found for why John would ever raise a hand to him, as if there could _be_ any way to justify it.

He never got over that night. Me? I never got over the years.

Together, Dad and I rise slowly out of our chairs and approach him, keeping our hands up in a placating gesture. If he feels threatened like this, he’ll start swinging. He’s got a good right hook, too. I mean, we all do; we had to in that house. But he never let his get rusty.

“Come on, boy, why don’t we just get you upstairs so you can clean off. You’ve had a long day; we all have.” Dad says, keeping his tone even.

“We saved some chili for you,” Eileen adds softly. I can see Sam subtly put a hand on her thigh in warning. Adam rears on her.

“And where the hell have _you_ been, huh? You just left us—left all of us, left Sam. How could you do that, Eileen? We were fucking _family_ …and you just cast us aside? And you come back when it’s convenient for you? Now, now that we got out of that house, when we got out of that life, _now_ you come back? Why, so you don’t have to deal with all the ways our dad fucked us up? Well guess what, Sunshine? After you left, SAM STOPPED TALKING. Hasn’t in years, not really. He fucking _broke_ , and where were you? What did you really save yourself from, huh? Might as well get out now, while you still can.” He spits out, his voice hard and bitter like acid and ash swirled together in a powder keg.

For a minute we’re all too stunned to speak. And then, cold and sly as ever, he looks back at Eileen, raising his hands.

_So sorry, did you need me to repeat any of that?_

“You son of a bitch,” Sam grumbles, his form menacing when he rises out of his seat, keeping one hand gently on Eileen’s shoulder. Light dances behind Adam’s eyes. He’s pleased with himself, looks fucking delighted, even though it looks like Sam is a breath away from beating him senseless.

“Ah, there it is!” He giggles. “Finally found his weak spot. Not that I’m surprised, though. He always was soft on you, Eileen.”

She meets his gaze evenly, unfazed, but I can tell there are things she’s keeping carefully hidden. She’s guarded. “I think it’s time you went to bed, Adam. We’ve had a long day.”

“Eileen is right, boy. Let’s get you upstairs,” Dad says, coming over to Adam and turning him by the shoulders to lead him down the hallway to the guestroom before he can argue. Before the door closes, he shouts loud enough for all of us to hear:

“I’m not your son. My name is Adam Winchester.”

And I swear, I can almost hear my heart breaking.


	3. Off My Star

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! This weekend is going to be absolutely insane, so here is an early update for you! Regular weekend updates should return next week. Also, I think I'll be posting a link to the chapter's song in the notes for now, so here are the first three:
> 
> 1\. [Ocean and Atlantic](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AzAHL8oaS9c)  
> 2\. [Nothing You Can Live Without, Nothing You Can Do About](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cItFKnaBRdE)  
> 3\. [Black Cat](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pm3HUXjDxpk)

_She said “Get your hands off my star. It’s not your part but all your fault and this jealous actress has a habit of making things sound way too tragic” -_ “Black Cat” by Mayday Parade 

Things are quiet after Adam storms off. I look over at Sam, and it’s clear he’s trying to keep his breathing under control. He has a violent streak in him, but he refuses to act on it. He doesn’t want to be anything like John, and he doesn’t need to tell me that for me to know.

 _You two good?_ I ask them, and it startles Eileen back from wherever her mind had taken her. She nods, a little shaky, and Sam helps her up from the table and whisks her up the stairs to the guest room. Judging form the look on her face, I would say they have a lot to talk about.

I feel like I need a drink, which is the exact reason Dad brings me a glass of water. He knows as well as I do that mixing a bottle with a bad night is a crap combination, and I saw what that kind of behavior can lead to.

“I’m sorry,” I blurt out to my parents, because I don’t know what else to say. I feel like I don’t do enough to help Adam, but Dad has drilled it into my head over and over again that it’s not my job to be his parent. There’s some stuff he has to work out on his own. The best we can do is be there for him.

But my mom doesn’t really seem to hear me. She has that look on her face, the one that says there’s something on the tip of her tongue that she can’t quite remember. Until she does?

“Where the hell is Jo?”

I’m struck dumb. I have no clue.

“I haven’t heard from her all day,” I tell her honestly. Dad’s already dialing her number. He sets his phone down on the table, putting it on speaker. Thankfully, she picks up right away. She sounds out of breath.

“Hey, Dad! I’m so sorry I missed dinner—things got kinda, uh, we just—we lost track of uh, time, and—”

“Joanna Beth,” Mom cuts in. I swear I can almost hear my sister gulp. I’d laugh if my mom didn’t look so damn intimidating. “Honey. Where are you? What’s going on?”

“Hi, Mom. I’m, uh, at the office. With Shepley.”

“Who?” I ask.

“The boy that we were interviewing for the receptionist position.” Dad nearly spits. He can tell just as easily as I can that something happened between them.

“Dad—" she implores.

“Jo,” he cuts in. “Dean is gonna swing by and give you a ride back to your dorm. It’s late—we wouldn’t want you walking back by yourself.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be by myself,” I can hear her mumble. I start to laugh but cover it with a cough. Mom looks unimpressed.

“What was that, honey?”

“Nothing, Mom.”

“I thought so. Dean’ll be there in a few minutes.”

\-----

When I show up at the office a little while later, I’m not sure why I’m surprised by the scene. Jo’s hair has that look to it, the look where she has to blow her bangs out from her eyes. The guy next to her, Shepley, looks like his own version of ragged--like his ratty tee and worn jeans are just a little _too_ ratty and worn. Like he’s consciously fighting himself to stay out of her space. She’s looking at him like she can’t decide if she wants to slap him or jump him.

I’m not sure if I should be surprised or not. Hell, lately, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to feel about anything at all. The way Jo looks at me, I’m not sure how she feels about it, either, but if she were pissed at the guy she would’ve leveled him, so I’m not worried about that.

“Mom’s pissed.” I say simply. I can practically hear the gulp Shepley takes.

“Yeah, I got that,” she says, balancing carefully on one leg as she works to get her work boot back on. She stumbles, and Shepley and I both move to catch her before she levels us both with a glare.

“So when they ask me if you were just having sex in the office, do you really want me to _lie_ about it?” I ask, crossing my arms in front of me.

“Fuck off,” she bites. Behind me, the bell over the office door sounds.

“Did I hear that right, Shep? You _finally_ got some action? I thought you were here for an interview.”

“He was.”

“I was,” they reply at the same time, and I can’t help but laugh myself when I hear the voice behind me break into amused laughter, too. I turn around, and I see Shepley’s friend clearly for the first time. He’s tall and broad, with pale skin under a million tattoos, sandy brown hair, and brown eyes. I can see one tattoo in particular sticking out from just under his watch, but only because its surrounded by a halo of fresh skin; it’s simple cursive, of the name _Diane_. He’s wearing jeans sitting low on his hips, but they’re clean, and his grey t-shirt isn’t wrinkled. He’s not wearing work boots, either. Just black sneakers. I’m not sure what he does from the look of him, but clearly the answer isn’t that he works in a garage.

When Shepley’s friend sees me turn around, he sticks his hand out and grips mine in a warm hand shake.

“Sorry about my cousin causing trouble, man. I’m Travis Maddox.”

“I’m Jo’s brother, Dean Winchester.”

Travis’ expression changes and he looks to Shepley. “I thought you said this was Singer Auto.”

In turn, Shepley turns to Jo. “I thought your last name was Harvelle.”

Jo and I exchange a look. We get this all the time--three kids with two different last names, neither of which matches our parents.

“It’s complicated,” I say simply. Because it is, even if the way we got here wasn’t.

And then Travis is looking at me with this look in his eyes. Like he gets it without me saying anything. Like he already knows, from a single conversation, where my life has been to get me here, and he’s fucking _alive_ with it. Satisfied. It’s like he’s got me figured out, and I’m not sure if he thinks of himself like a cat with a ball of yarn. But I’m not sure he doesn’t either. A second ago I felt fine, and now it’s like I’m off-center. It’s like Travis holds all the cards now, and he’s calling the rest of the show.

Not if I have anything to say about it.

I don’t do unsettled. I learned a long time ago to trust my instincts. I don’t like what I can’t figure out. And the way his eyes are trained on me now, he’s not-too-subtly checking me out. Sizing me up. Trying to gauge how fun this game will be.

But I am not a game.

“Come on, Jo. Let’s go. Mom and Dad’ll wanna give you an earful.” I say, maybe more terse than strictly necessary. I don’t really care.

“Oh come on, now, Rocky, a complicated past is nothing to run from. Hell, I think it makes things more interesting.”

“I’m not here to make your life interesting,” I bite back, giving Jo a look. A moment passes, and I turn back to Travis. “Rocky?”

“Cause you’re a fighter. I can tell.” And I swear, he’s wearing this shit eating grin that makes me want to punch him. _Actually_ punch him, violent tendencies be damned.

“So what was it, Jo? Juvie? The system? Ax murderer?” But Jo is having none of it, and gathers her stuff, pacing around the counter towards the door, leaving a gaping Shepley behind her.

“Seriously, Trav? Can’s you just stay out of it?” His cousin asks, like they’ve been in this situation before.

Ignoring Shepley, Travis turns to face me.

“And what about you?” he asked, light and mischief behind his eyes. “What’s your story?”

“Who’s Diane?” I fire back, his eyes hard and unimpressed. Travis sits back on his heels, exhaling through a sigh, seeing that I’m not gonna give in that easily.

“Okay, okay, I get it, Rocky. I don’t like to give out all that stuff on a first date, either.”

“Then why’d you ask?” I bite back. And then, “This isn’t a date.” But Travis’ eyes are still alight with that same smirk.

“Maybe not yet.”

And then I turn and leave.


	4. Better Lost Than Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Here's another update!
> 
> This week's song: [Sorry Not Sorry](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0VMaev3h7IM)

_Well if you were lost I’d bring you safe back home, and wrestle with your demons so you could be left alone [...] I guess it’s better lost than found ‘cause you just bring me down. I’m turning back before I get myself too deep_ \- “Sorry, Not Sorry” by Mayday Parade

There’s that dream again. The nightmare. But it’s biting this time; colder than I remember. And Cas isn’t wearing his trenchcoat. He’s trying to tell me something, but I can’t quite make out what it is. Everything is spinning, and I wake up, jerked to the right and feeling like my world is standing on its head.

Again.

It’s not the best way to start the day.

And then there’s this god-awful banging on the wall between our place and the apartment next door. We haven’t met our neighbors yet, but they’re not exactly creating a great impression. Except after a minute, I listen harder. It’s not exactly _banging_ , like people are fucking on the couch, but almost a thudding, like someone’s being thrown around. Then there’s a loud crash and someone’s yelling and next thing I know, I’m practically breaking down my neighbor’s front door.

I grew up on the other side of that wall. There’s no way I’m leaving it alone.

Behind the door, I can hear huffing and the crunch of stepping on broken glass. The thudding stops, which helps settle my nerves, if only slightly, but then the door opens.

And I’m looking at a red-faced, huffing, Shepley. The collar of his t-shirt is torn, and his knuckles are bruised. One of them is bleeding. His lip is split, but there’s no fear in his eyes--more like guilt at being caught. A dog with its tail between its legs.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I practically yell at the kid, shoving him backwards into the apartment. “You think Jo would ever want to be with someone that does this kind of shit? In their living room? On a _Tuesday_?”

“Hey there, Rocky. How’ya been?” Because of course Travis is here, catching his breath on the sofa, barely a scratch on him. I look between him and Shepley, who looks like a fish gasping for air, and I am completely fucking clueless. Travis huffs a small laugh, taking pity on his terrified cousin.

“It’s not what it looks like, I swear. My brothers and I used to wrestle all the time to get our energy out, but now my dad gets pissed when we do it at home. Shep and I were just messing around.”

I take in Shepley’s split lip and give Travis a skeptical expression. “Clearly.”

“He’s telling the truth. Please, please don’t tell Jo. We were just messing around. I-I couldn’t even get a punch in. See? Not, not that I would want to hit a girl, I’d never, I wouldn’t--”

“Easy, there, killer.” I raise my hands in a placating gesture. “I’m not worried about Jo. I taught her to fight when she was a kid. She knows how to defend herself.”

Shepley relaxes, if only slightly. Travis has that fucking light in his eyes again, like he’s a cat and I’m a ball of yarn.

“You know how to fight, Rocky?”

“Would you please stop with that?”

Travis ignores me. “Come on, Rocky. Prove it to me, show me your skills.”

I can feel myself tense. “I don’t have anything to prove to you.”

“Who taught you how to fight?”

“I just learned.”

“Why did you teach your sister?”

“She’s little. She’s blonde. The world’s full of creeps.”

“Fair,” he concedes, tilting his head. “Why don’t you want to tell me anything about yourself?”

“Why don’t you want me to know who Diane is?” 

And there it is, that twist behind his eyes. The manic curiosity is gone, the game ends. We’re just three guys in a living room, no clue how we all came to be there. Shep is the first one to break the silence, coughing up what sounds like blood.

“Shit man, did you break my ribs?” he asks, no real malice in his voice, just mild disbelief.

“Let me see,” Travis asks, bringing his cousin to rest on the couch while he gets a roll of paper towels off the counter. With a surprisingly gentle touch, Travis dabs at Shepley’s lips, patting at his back when he coughs again, bringing up a little more blood into the towel.

“Shit,” I swear, a little awestruck. “Travis, you should probably take him to the ER.”

Shepley and Travis share a hard look, but it’s one of understanding.

“It’s okay, Trav. I can take myself. It’s not a big deal.”

“Like hell you can take yourself, you’re literally coughing up blood. Why can’t Travis take you?” But when I look at Travis, his eyes are far away and he’s shaking slightly.

 _Shit_.

But, surprisingly, the gangly nymph is on top of it. “Travis, it’s okay. Everything’s okay. I’m okay. I just landed wrong, that’s all. This has happened before, and it’s always fine. I’ll be back soon, okay? I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.” He speaks gently, keeping his voice even, even if his breathing is getting a little more labored than I would like. He really needs to get to the ER. But for whatever reason, his cousin is freaking out.

“No hospitals,” Travis mutters, voice still affected by his shaking.

“No hospitals,” I reassure him, though I don’t know why. “I’ll take him to the ER, you don’t have to go. He won’t be alone. I’ll call my sister to come sit with him, okay? He’ll be okay.”

Travis nods, but only barely. His eyes are still far away. I turn back to Shepley.

“Is there anyone that could come sit with him? Any of his brothers, maybe his dad?”

Shep nods, hand starting to clutch at his sides. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials a number.

“Trent? Hey, yeah it’s Shep. I got a little roughed up, gotta head to the ER,” he pauses, spitting up more blood into the towel. “Could you come sit with Travis? Thanks, man. Love you, too.”

He turns to look at me. “Trent will be here in a few minutes. You sure you want to go? I can take myself, I swear.”

I give him an unimpressed look. “Shepley, half that towel is literally covered in your blood. You can’t drive. The second his brother gets here, we’re leaving. Jo’s gonna be pissed.”

He winces. “You’re gonna tell her?”

“Fuck yes. I can’t wait to see this. She’s gonna be _pissed_.”

“Why do I get the feeling it’s gonna be very interesting knowing you?” 

“Because it will be. After all, who likes having boring neighbors?”

“ _Literally_ everyone.”

\-----

So as it turns out, Travis Maddox is incredibly strong, and did in fact crack his cousin’s rib. Shepley doesn’t seem that surprised by all this, and he tells me I don’t need to call Jo, which is exactly why I do.

Shepley is not amused. But then again, neither am I.

“Shep, what the hell is going on? Why was Travis so upset?” I ask him, trying my damndest not to beg, but it was pretty fucking scary seeing Travis freak out like that. Though I’m not sure why I care so much.

He takes a big breath, and tries everything he can to stall before he eventually gives up and looks me straight in the eyes.

“Travis hasn’t been to a hospital since his mom died. Cancer. He was four; he barely remembers her, but he refuses to go to the doctor now. We can’t even get on his case because he eats well and works out-- he takes care of himself. But still, he won’t go, and it freaks him out if one of us ever has to.”

Shit. “He’s scared you’re gonna die?”

“Yup.” Shep nods, then winces. A thought occurs to me.

“Her name was Diane, wasn’t it? His mom?”

“So you figured that one out, huh? Yeah, my aunt’s name was Diane. All of my cousins, even Thomas, have that same tattoo. I mean, I don’t think I’ll ever meet a tighter group of brothers, but Thomas, he basically had to raise them all, you know? Uncle Jim was such a mess after she died. Hell, I was little and I still remember it.”

And hell if I don’t know exactly what he means. Shep must see it on my face.

“Sound familiar?”

“Bits and parts,” I answer honestly. “Dead mom, broken dad, growing up _way_ too fast.”

“I thought Jo said your dad was dead,” he asks, perplexed. This time it’s my turn to take a deep breath.

“Jo and me, our family is complicated. In terms of blood, there isn’t an ounce between her and me, but that doesn’t matter to us. We’re fucking family. She didn’t lie to you, her dad _is_ dead; died in Iraq. Her mom married the man that should’ve been my father from the start, and the two of them adopted me and my little brothers.”

“So your mom is-”

“-dead. Yeah.”

“And your dad is….?”

“John Winchester is in prison back in Kansas. Our dad, Bobby Singer, owns Singer Auto.” Jo supplies helpfully, pushing aside the curtain and walking up to Shepley and cuffing him gently on the back of the head. “You seriously broke a rib?”

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Technically, _Travis_ broke my rib.”

“You idiot,” she says, rolling her eyes. But I see the smile she’s trying to hide.


	5. Never Easier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy April everyone! In case you didn't know, April 1 is Travis' birthday! To celebrate, I thought I would give you all an early chapter. (PS: I know absolutely nothing about cars)
> 
> Song of the week: [Miserable At Best](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Ung1YmdNZo) See you all on Saturday!

_These words were never easier for me to say, or her to second guess_ \- “Miserable At Best” by Mayday Parade

It’s funny, the way things start to change. A man breaks a rib and you find the broken family underneath, and maybe they aren’t all that different from you. Maybe we’re all just out there, looking for the other broken people to make our cracks feel like they’ve been filled with gold. Like we’re all just china cups dropped from a shelf that someone came along to find.

Maybe.

And maybe the way things change looks an awful lot like they’re really just staying the same. I still work at the garage, we still have dinners at Mom and Dad’s, I still visit the Red throughout the week. But now, sometimes Shepley comes along to dinner. Eileen comes to ours to have breakfast. I keep the stool next to me open for one of the Maddoxes, who invariably make an appearance--sometimes Trent, whose girlfriend Camille apparently works at the bar, or sometimes Travis.

Travis is different now, since that night. Cocksure, yeah, and he flirts with anything that moves (including me. _Always_ including me), but he’s more resigned now. I don’t get it--it’s like this is just some game he’s putting on for show; it’s like his heart isn’t in it. Like he’s tired, and he’d rather just sit down for a drink before the night is over.

In the few weeks since moving here, I’ve learned that the people who work at the Red are solid. 

Camille (Trenton’s girlfriend) and Raegan (her roommate), who tend bar, are like a well-oiled machine; cool under chaos, and they know how to throw their weight around when they need it, or lend a listening ear when they don’t. Kieron, Raegan’s boyfriend, is almost the stereotypical doorman: he’s big and broad, with dark eyes and a stern complexion for anyone that isn’t his girlfriend. But he also the kind of guy to go where he’s needed. This lanky kid, Garth, sweeps and buses, and he’s always in a good mood, but what’s more interesting is that the one cook, Ash, always makes excuses to come to the front to talk with him. When Garth’s back is turned, Ash looks like he wants to eat him alive. When Ash turns to leave, Garth practically trips over himself trying to look cool.

We have a pool going on what happens between the two of them: total combustion, accidentally taking out an eye with a knife in the throes of passion, Garth slipping and spilling a tray of bused dishes on himself the second Ash makes a move, it’s hilarious. Me? I’m hoping they make it through the long haul. Even after everything, I’m hopeful for the happy ending, even if it isn’t for me.

\-----

A few weeks after that fight with Shep, we’re all at the bar. It’s like any other night, except it isn’t, because the way things stay the same is the way they start to change. It’s a Tuesday so the crowd’s a bit small. There’s this girl Katie down at the end of the bar, and she just won’t shut up to Raegan about her miserable fucking life. It’s a Tuesday in Nowhere, Illinois, and before I can take some pity on this poor girl for whatever must have happened to get her here, the girls sitting at the table behind her start to laugh and she just _bolts_ \--right past Kieron, straight into Adam’s chest. He shoves the sobbing girl out into the rain and stumbles through the door, plopping down into the seat next to me at the bar. His hair is wet, but if this were a cartoon, I’m sure there would be steam coming out of his ears.

Out of the corner of my eye, I give Camille a warning look to go easy on him; it’s clear he’s already been somewhere. Technically, she shouldn’t be serving him at all, since he’s only 18, but this is our family’s bar, and we all decided that we would rather any drinking be done where we can keep an eye on it, rather than sneaking off to parties, even though it’s clear that’s exactly what Adam’s done tonight. As clear as it ever gets with Adam, anyway.

Adam does this all the time. It became his thing: get drunk, get angry, pass out, repeat. But the hangovers can only be a preventative for so long, and this was Lawrence-level shit. Hell, I’m finally starting to feel like Eakins might be a good place to start over, but then he goes and pulls this shit, and I’m right back in the life I walked away from. Which I did to keep _him_ safe--fuck if I care that much about myself-- and he’s shitting all over it.

On my other side, I feel Travis start to tense, like he’s unsure what to do; if his presence is welcome or if it will just set Adam off. We had just been talking about plans for tattoos, and I can tell he feels like he’s intruding on something private. And maybe he is, but fuck it. Adam has been angry for so long that I’m kinda getting tired of letting it rule everything.

“Hey, Cami, my mom in the back?” I ask. She shakes her head, then moves further down the bar to help someone who just came in. 

“That settles it, let’s go,” I say, hauling Adam up by the armpits and gesturing for Travis to come with me. “We’re going to Mom’s house, and you’re gonna fucking _talk to me_ for once.”

“Why?” Adam slurs. “It’s not like Sam ever does.”

“Sam may not talk, but at least he communicates. You just drink and grunt and expect us to be able to read your mind.”

“The fuck is this, an intervention?”

“If it has to be.” I look back at Travis, gesturing for him to follow me as I start to make my way out of the bar, one hand on the collar of my brother’s shirt.

“The hell are you bringing him along for?”

“We were just about to order food,” I tell him, hauling his ass into the backseat of the Impala while Travis and I take the front. “You were being a pouty bitch and inconvenienced him out of a meal; therefore, he gets to join. Not only that, he gets the leftover pot roast that’s in the fridge.”

“Oh come on!” He moans from the back, and I swear to God I know I should, but I cannot find it within me to care.

\-----

When we get to our parents’ house, I’m shocked to see that they have guests. I’m even more shocked that one of them is Trenton. Travis clearly wasn’t expecting this either, because his eyes go wide when he sees the heavy-set man sitting next to his brother.

“ _Dad?_ ” he asks incredulously. And then we’re all looking around the table, wondering how in the hell we all came to know each other. Turns out Mr. Maddox- _Jim_ , he insists-- lives next door, and our parents invited him over as a welcome visit. Trent happened to be with him, and Travis was with me. Shepley and Jo are mysteriously absent, and even if I walked into this house hoping to set Adam straight, I can’t help but feel like this meeting was important too. It feels like the Maddoxes were always supposed to be here, laughing with us over this small world we live in. When Sam and Eileen show up, it’s like all the things that broke us just left us open for something better.

Family dinner: the same, and yet it starts to show us how to change.

Looking back on it, I don’t remember dinner. I don’t remember the meal we had, or who cleaned up after. I remember a lot of stories, and a lot of laughing. Well, except from Adam. He’s still the one piece that doesn’t sit right; the one that can’t let go. The one with jagged edges, and if you get to close, you end up bleeding too. 

But damn it, he’s my little brother. I’ve risked it all for him once, and I’d do it again.

He’s barely said a word all night. I can tell he’s still mad about being brought here against his will, and from the looks my parents have been sharing all night, he and I both know that there’s no way he’s getting out of what we came here for. He’s drunk and rearing for a fight, but somehow, I’m still not ready for it when it comes.

The night is drawing to a close--the maddoxes have been great; kind, funny, and just _good_. They’re good people. Aside from the 3 insurance salesmen sons who live in Colorado and California, Jim is a retired cop, Trent works at the tattoo parlor, and Travis just started working at the library, of all places.

“It’s quiet,” he says when I ask him about it. “I like helping people learn.”

And yet for as good as these men are, Adam still finds a way to draw them in to his fury; someone else to spurn him and push him away when he makes them feel itchy things. Adam wants to be the thing that makes their skin crawl. He wants to feel their relief at being rid of him so he can tell himself that John was right about him all along.

At the end of the night, he makes his move. All throughout the meal, we’ve been trying to get Adam to settle down, but he just keeps going. Adam stumbles over to them as the Maddoxes are about to leave, stage-whispering conspiratorially in Travis’ ears “Hey Travis, don’t you know? Your new friend, your pot-roast hook-up, he’s bad news, man. Dean’s a fucking HARBINGER OF DEATH in this FUCKING FAMILY. Not that anyone would listen to me. You better watch out...guy...or _you might be next_.”

Travis just looks at me with this guarded expression, Mom’s voice becoming eerily quiet, her inner rage only barely contained. “Adam, that is enough.”

“Afterall, first Mom died…”

“Adam-”

“Then Cas died. And it’s all Dean’s fault. Did you know that? He let his own boyfriend-”

“THAT IS ENOUGH. Get out of my fucking house, boy, or I will throw you out on your poor drunk ass. You will have a good, cold sleep on a park bench tonight. We will discuss this more when you’re clear-headed enough to remember.” Mom practically growls. I think it should make me feel afraid, but I’m not really sure if I remember how to feel anything right now.

“See, told you man. Can’t even handle the truth,” but Travis keeps his gaze straight ahead, to a point past my shoulder, his jaw locked tight to keep from pummeling this asshole into the ground.

“You heard your Mama boy. Get out.” Dad’s tone leaves no room for discussion. 

“MY MOM IS DEAD!” He shouts, close to tears. Without further ado, but a lot of accidentally running into walls, Adam makes his way to the front door, barely letting the door latch behind him as he slips off to God-knows-where.

Everyone just sat in silence for a few moments; they were all too stunned to move. I think I’m shaking in my seat. Next to me, Sam tries to put a hand on my shoulder, but I just flinch away from the touch. To John Winchester, I’ve always been a “harbinger of death;” I wasn’t a good enough kid to make Mary satisfied with only having one, so they had more kids that ultimately led to her death; at least, that’s how John saw it. John blames the kids; he always has. And now it’s like I’m was back there in that old house all over again, waiting for a punch that doesn’t come. I feel like I’m underwater, but then I hear a familiar voice.

Is that... _Travis_?

“Dean? Can you hear me? Dean, I could really use your help. Shep is absolute crap when it comes to cars and his old Intrepid is giving him problems. I’ve done what I can, but I can’t quite figure out what the problem is. It’s parked in the driveway next door. Do you think you could take a look?” The youngest Maddox asks softly, looking at me like this is the most normal conversation in the world, instead of trying to coax me out of the first stages of a panic attack. Who the hell _is_ this guy?

Not trusting my voice, I nod, walking out the back door towards the Maddox house. I know without looking that Travis is following me, and he had to admit he was grateful for the distraction. The Intrepid looks as old as dirt, and it makes me smile. I’ve always had a soft spot for cars, and clearly this one has some stories. 

Turning to look at Travis, I ask “You wanna pop the hood for me?” But then I notice the twin beers in Travis’ hands. I look up to meet Travis’ gaze. He’s back to his cocky, but almost as if it’s a cover and we both know it, but he’s just putting on a show to make me feel better.

“Look, Dean, I hate to do this, but I’m starting out our friendship with a lie. I’m not an idiot; I know exactly what’s wrong with Shep’s car. One of the belts in the engine got knocked loose, it’ll take no time at all to fix. Now, if you want to go ahead and fix that engine belt and go our separate ways for the night, that’s fine. I get the feeling my dad and brother are gonna be high-tailing it out of there pretty soon anyway. Option two, we could sit on the roof of the car, knock back these beers, and talk. Option three is a combo offer: beer and belt, belt and talk, or all three. Your call.”

I take a moment to really think about it. Part of me can’t believe this night; where the hell have this guy and his family come from? They just sat through what turned into a mess of a family dinner and had nothing but encouragement and kindness to offer me and my family. It feels like I’m actually making friends in my last-ditch effort to make a life here in The After. This feels too good to be true.

 _Good things are allowed to happen,_ I can almost hear Cas telling me. _You’re allowed to be happy._

“I’ll take that beer, thanks.” Travis popped the lid off both, handing one to me as he takes a swig from the other. We settle ourselves against the lid of the car for awhile, quietly taking in each other’s company. After awhile, I’m not sure how long, Travis speaks quietly, still looking off into space. That cockiness is gone now. Neither of us need the show.

“I’m not going to tell you it’s not true.”

“What?”

“The whole ‘harbinger of death thing.’ I’m not going to tell you it’s not true.”

“Why not?”

“Look, I could tell you that until I’m blue in the face, but nothing in this world is going to absolve that feeling of guilt you’re carrying until _you_ decide to let it go. I’m not gonna waste my time with platitudes that are frankly insulting to both of us. What I _will_ do is stand out here with you, sipping moderate amounts of alcohol, so maybe you won’t feel so alone in the dark. As long as you need.”

“I didn’t kill Cas,” I whisper; I’m now exactly sure who I’m trying to convince.

“Never thought you did,” Travis replies, taking a small sip of his beer.

I like this; I like how easy it is to just exist next to Travis. There’s no judgement, no expectation for me to carry on my shoulders. No one is looking up to me; Travis is just looking _at_ me. Seeing me. Travis makes me feel like walking out of a life of Hell didn’t make me into some freak. One night with Travis and his family and I am starting to feel like a survivor instead of a soldier.

Who the hell _is_ this guy? 

And how the hell could he know exactly what to say after what Adam had accused me of?

I suddenly feel myself go rigid and cold. _Oh._ I took a deep swig of my beer and swallow hard.

“Who was it?”

Travis sighs deeply, as if he had been both waiting for and dreading me catching up to where his mind is. He starts fiddling with the pendant hidden under his shirt and looks deep into my eyes as though he was searching for something.

“Abby. Her name was Abby.”


	6. Cuts on Paper Hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Here's another chapter for you. The plot is starting to pick up! I'd love to hear what you think.
> 
> This week's song: [Ocean and Atlantic](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AzAHL8oaS9c) I generally try to do one chapter per song, but this one is one of my personal favorites, so I made an exception :)

_Cuts on paper hearts, they can be awful deep. Rips from wear and tear on different city streets. They don’t all need a home, but just a place to sleep_ \- “Ocean and Atlantic” by Mayday Parade

Cas was trying to tell me something.

This shit is happening all the time now. Every time I dream about him, the last thing I remember is him telling me something, but by the time the dust settles and I wake up alone, it’s as gone as he is. But I know it was important; hell, it had to be. He died just moments ago trying to get me to hear it.

I think it was “It’s okay, Dean,” but now I guess I’ll never know. Or maybe I won’t know until tomorrow. Trying to have a conversation with a ghost can be exhausting. But it’s Cas, so I know I have to keep at it.

It’s the early afternoon on a Saturday. Travis is in my kitchen, trying to make some kind of edible egg salad even though he can’t cook worth a crap. He and Trent are having dinner with their dad tonight. I think Shepley is supposed to be going with them, but he’s mysteriously disappeared. So has Jo. 

“Not working today?” I ask him, still startled that he has the whole afternoon off on a weekend. Usually the library is crawling with parents trying to get their kids out of the house. We’ve started hanging out more, and I like it, I really do. He’s down to earth, and he doesn’t let anyone give him shit. Not even when life has tried.

“Nope, I think they’re all getting ready for Halloween, getting their costumes together or something.”

“What was your favorite thing you dressed up as for Halloween when you were a kid?”

“John Lennon,” he answers automatically, as if it's the most obvious answer in the world.

I find myself thinking of the guitar gathering dust in the back of my closet, but I’m not sure why.

\-----

We had the conversation about Abby. We had to, after that night. She was his Cas; the bright spot, the whirlwind, the love, the loss. Hell, they got farther than me and Cas--they were getting married. She was killed in a gun fight between her dead-beat dad and his loan shark a few months before Cas died, and even though I would never wish what happened to Cas on anyone, I find solace in the fact that his death was a total accident. At least the last thing he felt wasn’t disappointment or fear; he was gone too quickly for that. Abby, well, she was shot in the stomach.

That takes a while to take you. There are time for regrets.

I know it bothers Travis. He hates himself for not having been there. But he doesn’t let that stop him from living, and that’s something I need in my life. Sure he’s cocky and can be annoying, but I’m starting to see who he is when his walls come down. I need someone to remind me to live, too. And I need it from someone who’s been where I’ve been. It shows me there’s a better way than just drifting through all of this.

I wasn’t the only one in my family who had been through something traumatizing; we all lived under John’s oppressive thumb. He wasn’t just an angry drunk, he was a violent one. He beat on Adam because he looked so much like our Mom. He beat on Sam because he reminded John so much of himself before Mom--smart, eager to learn, dedicated to family. But then the family he found went and got herself killed, and he didn’t know what to do with the pieces of ash and charcoal he had left.

And me, I’m pretty sure he beat on me because it was easier than talking. And because I would always fight back.

That night, the one where we wound up on Bobby’s front porch, was probably the worst of it. It was around the time of the anniversary of Mom’s death. We were trying to be quiet and not bother him--we learned when we were young that it was best to leave him alone for the last two weeks of October. But this one night, he just came home more drunk and furious than I have ever seen him. I have no idea what happened to him before that; where he came form, who he must have fought with. But he showed up and knocked me so hard into the wall he dislocated my shoulder and gave me a nasty gash on my head that had me seeing stars. Then he started beating Sam so badly that he broke a few of his ribs and gave him a concussion before I even knew what was happening. Adam had always been one to shut up and bear it when he got mad like that, but something in him snapped when he saw Sam on the floor and he started going after John with every piece of furniture he could find. When John was finally unconscious, I grabbed the keys to the Impala, got us to Bobby’s, and turned my back on that night forever.

But Adam? He’s still wandering around with an open wound in his chest and steam pouring out of his ears. Sometimes, I feel like there’s no way I could ever possibly help him. This morning, he stormed out of the apartment without a word, slamming the door so hard behind him it almost broke off the hinges. Something is going on, and I just can’t tell what it is.

Travis looks at me, and I can still see that smirk. But this time, it isn’t because he’s trying to figure me out; it’s because he can tell what I’m thinking. Because he’s Travis--of course he knows.

“Where’s Adam right now, Rocky?” he asks. I shrug.

“I think he’s at some rush thing.” I pull out my phone and send him a quick _where are you?_ Text. I’m not sure why I feel the need to know all of a sudden; I just need to have eyes on my baby brother. Sam is with Eileen, Jo is probably fucking Shep in an inconveniently placed storage closet somewhere, and Adam is walking around like a ball of rage. I don’t like it. He shouldn’t be around others. Not when he’s a powder keg. Someone could get hurt--he never quite learned how to quell the violent urges; then again, I don’t think he ever wanted to.

Ten minutes pass and there’s still no word from him. Travis finishes the egg salad and puts it in the fridge, washes his hands, then turns to me, grabbing the keys to Baby I’ve been twirling around idly in my hand.

“Hey!” I shout indignantly.

“Relax, Rocky, I was just trying to get your attention,” he says, handing me back my keys. “You said he’s at a rush thing, right? My brothers were in a frat when they were in school, I know where the frat houses are. Come on, let’s go.”

“What are we gonna do?” I ask, already out the door, following him to my car. Travis shrugs. That glint in his eyes is gone.

“I guess you’ll figure it out when you get there.”

Ten minutes later, Travis and I are pulling up to the curb about a block up from what is definitely the Rho Epsilon Rho, or Rho E, house. It’s two stories, small, with crumbling red-brick walls and faded black shudders hanging on by a single hinge. Above the door are the frat’s Greek letters, and the house number is bolted to the side of the door on an old brass plate. And down the block, in a black SUV with tinted windows, there’s _definitely_ a cop.

 _Fuck no_.

Travis notices it at the same time I do, but he doesn’t have a little brother in that house, so I’m out of the car before his “Dean, I don’t think--” can even register in my brain.

I start running.


	7. One Way Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Happy Passover/Easter/Whatever if you're celebrating this weekend. If not, Happy Saturday! 
> 
> Song of the week- [Ghosts](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4D4zpATVXQQ) (PS I usually post the link to a lyrics video, but I actually love this music video, so happy listening!)
> 
> See you next weekend :)

_No I won’t waste away my love onto something new. If there’s only one way out, I’ll come back for you_ \- “Ghosts” by Mayday Parade

Somehow, mercifully, the door is unlocked when I slam into it. Part of me thinks that in a different time or place, Adam might actually be impressed by the splinters I leave behind, but I can’t care about that right now. I start calling his name frantically, but he doesn’t answer. That’s when I hear the commotion coming from downstairs. Hell, they probably didn’t even hear me. Moving slowly and quietly, I follow the noise until I come to an old wooden staircase leading to the basement. There’s no door at the top, and no one on the stairs, but I can practically hear them creak without even touching them, so I stay where I am and crane my neck to listen to what’s happening.

Surprisingly, I’m met with silence. It sounds like the whole place has been abandoned, but I still don’t know where my little brother is. Slowly, I start creeping down the stairs. I’m right, they’re creaky as hell, but I keep going.

When I get to the bottom, I can see big dog cages along one wall. They’ve been occupied recently, very recently; the doors on some of them are still swinging. But there are no blankets or water dishes, and I know without really having to think about it that those cages weren’t housing dogs.

What the hell are they doing here?

“And just who the hell are you?” 

I turn around, and that’s when I see it: a wall of shadows in the vague impression of men, crowded in the space behind the staircase where I couldn’t see them coming down. Suddenly, a light flashes on from one of those old-school tug ropes on the end of a light bulb and I blink hard against the sudden light. At the front of this crowd, a tall man with broad shoulders, olive skin, and short hair stands with the cord dangling between his fingertips, like he’s a cat playing with a string. He looks at me like I’m a bowl of tuna; he’s ravenous.

In my head, I call him Macavity.

It’s clear that I’ve interrupted something important. Behind the Cat, there is a wall of angry faces. But there are other expressions, too--relief, fear, surprise. A picture starts forming in my head, and I don’t like what I see.

“I’m just looking for my brother,” I say, holding my hands up in placating gesture. He remains unamused.

“And _I_ asked: who. The hell. Are you?” his head tilts to the side, voice hard even if he’s going for a kind of sing-song lilt. It falls flat.

“My name is Dean. Dean Winchester.” And then his eyes light up.

“Winchester,” he calls out with a grin, and Adam steps up from the shadows of this wall of men, his eyes cast down towards the ground and his hands behind his back.

“Winchester,” he says again, towards Adam. Leering. “You know this rat?”

“Yes, sir. He’s my brother.”

“You bring him here?” 

“No, sir.”

“Tell him to come here?”

“No, sir.” 

“Then how, exactly, did he come to be here?” Macavity asks as he starts to circle around me like I’m some kind of prey. His words are aimed at Adam, but his eyes are watching me. I can see the other guys sizing me up, too. I can tell by Adam;s expression that he doesn’t know how I got here, and that’s not going to fly in this dungeon, so yet again I throw myself down on my sword. Because he’s family; that’s just what you do.

“I followed him here. He didn’t know.” I tell Macavity, looking right into his eyes so he knows that he can’t get me. He may have my brother caught in his twisted web; he may have Adam looking down, but I refuse. I look up at him. I look out.

And he looks...curious. Intrigued. Playful, even, if it’s possible for the mouse to think the cat is playful before that menacing smile is the last thing they see. I am so done with these men and their games. I am not a mouse. I am not a ball of yarn. I am not a game.

“Well, _Dean_ ,” he curls my name around his tongue, swirls it like a glass of wine, “While I am all for family reunions, you seem to have shown up at a rather inconvenient time. See, the boys like your brother here are in the middle of... _committing_ themselves to our little brotherhood here. You know all about brotherhood, don’t you, Dean?”

“Yeah,” I say, trying to keep the edge out of my voice. 

“And, well, I hate to ask a favor of you, Dean, since you’re just here to see Adam, but you’ve interrupted our festivities here, and since Adam wasn’t exactly able to ditch outside distractions to come here, I’m starting to think that he might not be as committed to our group here as he’d like us to believe.”

“He didn’t know I was following him,” I say again, firmer this time. Fuck me for trying to reason with this dick, but here in this musty basement I’ve seen Adam actually feel something other than anger, and I’ll be damned if I take this shithole away from him. I hate that he’s here, but I can’t get in the way of him making his own choices anymore.

“I get that, Dean, but still, I’m a little upset we had to stop what we were doing for this little interruption. You see, I have a schedule to keep, so what I’m asking, Dean, is: how sorry are you? How much does my approval of your little brother matter to you? After all, I run this show. I decide who’s in and who’s out. Do you care if Adam loses that chance because of you?”

“What do you want?” I ask, trying to keep my teeth from grinding together.

“Well, like I said, Dean, I have a schedule to keep and various…. _benefactors_ to keep happy. One of them is going to be in town soon, and he’s going to be looking forward to a show.”

“So what, you want me to sing and dance or something?”

“No, no, nothing like that. I was thinking a little more….heart-pounding. Bloody.”

A chill settles over me. “You want me to fight someone?”

“I don’t just want you to fight someone, Dean. I want you to win. And when I call you, I expect you to show up within the hour.”

I think about it for a minute. This leech wants me to fight someone, defeat them, and then he’ll leave my brother alone. Part of me think that this sounds pretty straightforward, but the louder, probably smarter, part of me knows that nothing about deals made by coercion in a dark frat house basement can ever be simple. Even so, if this will help dig my brother out of his own personal Hell, I don’t really have a choice.

“I’ve got two questions, and then you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Shoot,” he says, smiling that crooked Macavity smile.

“Just who exactly am I representing here?”

“Oh I’m sorry, I never properly introduced myself. My name is Jason Brazil, but as for who you’ll be representing, well that’s us,” he says, sweeping his arms towards the wall of men surrounding us. “Rho Epsilon Rho. 

“And your other question?”

“Who exactly will I be fighting?”

Just then, a brown haired kid comes hauling down the steps, pushing an annoyed looking Travis in front of him.

“Look who I found sniffing around upstairs,” he says. Brazil’s eyes light up like he just won the lottery.

“Well, well, well. This just got a lot more interesting.”


	8. Covered in Glass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday! Here's another chapter for you all. I'd love to hear what you think :)
> 
> This week's song- [Priceless](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9lVm6pPFf8s)

_You’ll be the reason I’ll be uneven, covered in glass and lying on the floor. You’ll be the brightest star in the sky, sing me a song and tell me who it’s for_ \- “Priceless” by Mayday Parade

_From: Ring Master_

_Keaton Hall basement. 11pm. Enter through the window and wear your costumes, creatures. It’s a Halloween Masque_

\-----

The basement of Keaton Hall is, in one word, terrifying. The space is small, and everyone is packed in like sardines. The lights were dim, giving the illusion of candlelight bouncing off the backs of a hundred masked creatures, each one having to scream to be heard over the cries of the body next to it. They are on edge, antsy, wound-up, and thirsting for blood. This is gonna be bad.

There are nearly one hundred people here; most of them I don’t recognize, no thanks to their Halloween costumes, but I know there are some familiar faces in the crowd. Travis is across the make-shift little ring in the center of the room, with Shepley whispering something in his ear. He’s here as Travis’ second, and Sam is here as mine. Naturally, Eileen is here, too. Turns out her brother is the bouncer at the Red, Kieron, and he’s standing on her other side with his hand firmly around Raegan’s waist. Across the way, Trenton and Camille are standing with Travis. Jo is home helping our parents pass out Halloween candy and making sure they don’t ask about the rest of us.

I hate this. I hate feeling divided like this, seeing Travis and I separated like this and knowing what’s about to happen. We talked about this; talked about the fight. Neither of us want it, but we know what has to be done to get these vultures off our backs. Hell, we even made a little bet of it-- loser takes the winner out for drinks. I think it was supposed to make us feel better, but instead all I feel is afraid. The lot of us: Shep, Jo, Kieron, Ray, Cami, all of us, it feels like we made this little family in this nothing town and there are still vultures here trying to take it away. Trying to sink their talons in deeper. I can feel my hackles raise.

Just then, there’s a loud thud of an apple crate and the sudden flash of a spotlight from the center of the room. Swaying at the top of the crate is an alarmingly convincing Jason Brazil dressed as the Joker, laughing wildly and spinning around in circles. He finally comes to a stop, his eyes piercing me like daggers before turning to address the crowd.

“Welcome to Hell, creatures,” he croons from under his brow. Somewhere behind me, a shrill scream punches through the sudden silence of the crowd, as if everyone is suddenly in a trance. 

“Let the games begin.”

\-----

I don’t even hear Brazil announce me before Sam is dragging me out of my thoughts and shoving me into the ring. Whether or not my opponent is a friend, I have to be strong and at least put on a good show for Adam. Turning back to Sam, I take off the two pendants I always keep tucked under my shirt and place them in his open palm: a silver anti-possession symbol I found among his mother’s jewelry years ago, and a brass figurehead hung from a worn black cord that Sam gave for Christmas when we were kids. I kinda feel naked and vulnerable without them, but when Sam slips them both over his own head, I force myself to stop thinking about it. With a strong pat on my shoulder and a hard look, Sam turns on his heels and joins Eileen and Kieron at the edge of the circle. I steel himself for what’s about to come.

“And now for our challenger,” Brazil’s voice booms from his poor-man’s podium, “Hailing from our very own Sigma Tau house, Travis _MAD DOG_ Maddox!” 

The crowd explodes. Travis and I talked about this after Brazil set this whole thing up. Apparently, Travis was a familiar face at these fights back when his brothers were in the frat. The only difference was that then, he was in the audience. Now, he was the one fighting.

Across the ring, Travis is shirtless with red running shorts; no gloves, no shoes for either of us. For the first time, I’m really able to see the full scale of Travis’ tattoos. They cover his arms, yeah, but they move onto a lot of his chest and shoulders, too. They’re really beautiful. Trenton clearly knows what he’s doing. 

Travis’ brown eyes are menacing as Trenton whispers something in his ear before moving to stand next to Jo and Shepley. I can’t help but think about how much our families are starting to intertwine. I like it. It felt like for the first time in a long time, we have allies outside of our immediate family. It’s a nice feeling; a nice change.

Travis and I had been talking about the fight for the last several days. Since it was important that it look like we weren’t going easy on each other out of friendship, we decided to make it a real fight, and leave whatever happened in the ring there where it belonged. No matter the outcome, we would be fine. Besides, there were free drinks riding on this fight; why chicken out?

“Alright folks, the rules are simple: first to pin the other for more than five seconds wins. No nut punches, and don’t blind each other. Bets are officially closed. Ready, boys?” When we nod, Brazil holds the bell over his head, chiming it loudly. “BEGIN!”

We square up to each other, stalking around the ring and sizing each other up, seemingly daring the other to make the first move. Then, out of nowhere, Travis is all up in my face, striking with blow after blow to my arms, chest, and sides. I barely know where to go-- Travis keeps landing shot after shot. The crowd’s getting loud and menacing, and I know that if I don’t do something _right now_ , Adam is going to be in deep shit. That’s not what I’m here for.

I start blocking Travis’ assaults, catching each punch before it can get to me. I’m almost dancing around Travis, guiding him where to go. By then I start to get a sense of his fighting style, and I’m able to land a few hits myself. I can tell we’re both reluctant to actually hurt one another, preferring instead to block and dodge, and the crowd isn’t getting behind it. They want blood, and they want it now. Travis and I share a look, and we know what we have to do.

After that, fists are flying. I can’t figure out where I end and Travis begins. Our blood starts mixing together, spurring animation and excitement from the crowd, finally seeing the damage and ferocity they paid for. They want to see two men tear each other apart and get high on the power of Titans, so that in this moment they could feed every power-hungry fantasy they’d ever had. In the morning, they’ll wake up, brush themselves off, and go about their lives like nothing ever happened here. But I can feel the looks from the spectators; I know what sins they’re trying to hide. Afterall, the most menacing creatures make their lives known in the dark.

I get so distracted by my own thoughts, I almost miss another punch from Travis. Instead, I catch Travis’ fist and turn it roughly, locking his arm in place behind his body. Using all of his weight, Travis knocks his head back into mine, making me stumble. Seizing the opportunity, Travis maneuvers himself around me, trapping me in a headlock. I raise up a hand to grip at Travis’ arm around my neck and gave a strong squeeze that he returns against my shoulder. He’s gripping so tight, I think he might be leaving a bruise.

_It’s okay. We’re okay._

This isn’t going to change me.

Not one to give up too easily, I find my footing and launch Travis over my shoulder, throwing Travis to the floor. Looking down, I’m kneeling over him, pinning my knee to his chest. With the wind knocked out of him as it was, there’s no way Travis is going to be able to recoil fast enough. I pin him even though there was no way the fight could possibly be over this fast. I try to tell Travis with my eyes to fight back, to keep going, but he’s got this big-eyed, haunted expression on his face that wasn’t there a minute ago. He’s recoiling from me, trying to shrink in on himself and sink into the cold concrete floor beneath him that’s tainted with spattered blood.

And I swear, looking down on him in that moment, time stopped. It just stopped. In that moment, it was just me, Travis, and something whole and broken crashing down around us. I feel the earth shift beneath us. It settles in a different place.

Distantly, I’m aware of the crowd getting louder and louder, and someone is grabbing me by the shoulders and tearing me away from Travis, but I can’t tear my eyes away from that terrified expression on my friend’s face. I know that Travis isn’t really here right now, that he’s locked away in some awful memory. I should know; I’ve seen that look enough times on Sam’s face. I’ve felt it on my own. 

Shepley and Trenton are barreling over to him, trying to get him to snap out of whatever it is, and Sam is pulling my attention away from the scene in the middle of the floor. All around us, people are getting more and more rowdy as bets are collected and angry viewers start pushing their way passive-aggressively to the exits.

“Dean! You did it!”

“The hell, Sam?” I ask, shoving my little brother away. “Can’t you see something’s wrong with him?” We look behind us, but Travis and his family have been swallowed by the crowd. I can feel myself start to panic.

“Shep said they’re taking Travis home, Dean,” Jo interjected, pushing her way through the crowd. When the hell did she get here? “He said he’ll be okay. They’re gonna go clean him up. You should do the same, Dean. Let’s get you home. You need a shower.”

“I need to see him. I need to make sure he’s okay,” I say fiercely, and I’m almost sure there is literal fire in my eyes.

Sam holds his hands up in a placating gesture. “You will. They’re right next door. Let’s just give him some to unwind. We’ll get you all cleaned up and see if he’s up for visitors, okay?”

I sigh, nodding heavily. The adrenaline is starting to wear off and I can feel every single bruise and cut Travis gave me. I need to lay down before something knocks me down. Looking around the rapidly thinning crowd, I try to find my other brother. I know he was here somewhere. He said he would be, and this isn’t the kind of thing that Adam was likely to lie about.

“Any of you see Adam?” But looking around, it’s obvious that all the guys who had been wearing Rho E letters had disappeared. Even Brazil is gone. The only people left are our little group, Kieron, Raegan, and Eileen, and a few straggling spectators who are making plans for where else they’re going to spend the night.

“He told us he was gonna have to bail after the fight, but that he would be home by morning,” Sam shrugs.

I return the gesture, wincing when all the aches and pains protest the movement. “Well, I guess my work here is done.”


	9. Hey Jade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100 HITS?!? I can't believe it. Thank you all for coming along on this journey with me. Here's another chapter for you all in celebration.
> 
> Song of the week (one of my personal favorites)- [Take My Breath Away](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6izSmtZEU0g)

**__**_Who am I to judge? It’s written on your face, so take me for every moment that it’s worth. Hey Jade, do you think we’ll make it through? Are you looking for the way out?_ \- “Take My Breath Away” by Mayday Parade

I’m not sure how I get back to the apartment after that. All I can remember is the quiet. And Travis-- worrying about Travis. Hell, at this point it’s starting to feel like a part time job.

He froze in there. It was goddamn terrifying.

But he doesn’t want anyone around, so I keep myself busy. I take a hot shower, which helps my muscles feel better, even if the rest of me just feels like shit, and Sam hands me my necklaces and a bottle of water when I come back out to the kitchen. I push past him and pour myself a fifth of whiskey. I need it to numb...well, everything.

“It’s the only one,” I tell him, and I mean it. 

I check my watch. It’s been over an hour since we crawled back out of that basement, and still no word from Adam. I can’t say I’m really surprised, but I’m already worried about Travis, so worrying about my little brother isn’t exactly out of the way. My skin feels itchy; I need to move, do something. When I look at Sam, though, he’s the exact opposite: dead calm. _Too_ calm. Too still.

“You okay?”

He looks at me then, _really_ looks at me, and I feel like he’s twelve again and I’m picking him up off the floor of our old house. He’s got that blank look, the one that says he could either go right to sleep or bolt out of here and never be found again. When we were kids and he would start panicking, learned to shut it down so he could get out and survive. He hasn’t given me this look in a long time, but clearly this is a feeling he remembers. I never should have asked him to come to the fight tonight. 

And now I have someone else to worry about. This is shaping up to be a great night.

“Why don’t you text Eileen? I’m sure she’d want to be here,” I tell him, keeping my voice even. I don’t want to spook him. But he shakes his head.

 _She wanted to stay, but I told her to go. I didn’t want her to see me like this_ he says, and my heart breaks all over.

“Sam--” but just then, his phone goes off. He reads the message a few times, then turns the phone so I can see it. It’s from Trent.

_Get Dean here. Travis is asking for him_

\-----

I know that Travis is my neighbor; that the time between my place and his place is practically nonexistent, but I swear those 30 seconds feel like the longest I’ve felt in a long time. Longer than the time it took for me to wake up and realize Cas had died; because the longer I sat in that escape, the longer I could pretend that we were still fine. That _he_ was still fine.

I don’t want to pretend anymore. I want to wake up.

When I get to their apartment, Trent is already opening the door. I nearly knock him over. His expression is serious. I start following him through the living room and down the hall, but before I can knock on the door, he grabs my arm.

“Look, Dean, this is bad. _Really_ bad. I’ve never seen him this shaken up. Just...prepare yourself, okay?”

I nod, bouncing back and forth between my feet. I know I need to settle down, but damn it I just need to get _in there_. Trent seems to see this on my face.

“Take your time, man. If you two need anything, Cami and I will be right across the hall, okay? And I think Jo stole Shep to run interference with your parents or something.”

“With them, who knows?” I ask, huffing out a laugh. “I’ll try to avoid any unknown closets for a while.”

Trent chuckles at that, turning to tuck into his own room, where I can hear Cami moving around. Before he leaves, I pat him on the shoulder, and he turns back to look at me.

“Thanks, Trent. Seriously.” He nods, then slips though his door.

When I walk into Travis’ room, I can’t say I’m all that shocked by what I see. The room is dimly lit by a single lamp on his bedside table, and he’s sitting up in his large bed, dwarfed by the plush grey comforter and, well, tonight. I have a feeling tonight was enough to knock the wind right out of him, and this hunched ball is all that’s left. Like me, it looks like he’s gotten cleaned up and changed into something comfortable. But he’s shaking and his eyes are far away, like he can’t let himself hold onto a single thought, because each one just turns out worse than the rest.

I have a feeling I know this look.

Moving slowly, I sit down on the edge of his bed, not quite touching him, but close enough that he could reach out if he wanted to. The dip in pressure on the mattress is enough to knock him out of his stupor for a second because suddenly he’s sucking in these huge, gasping breaths, like he was drowning and just forgot how to notice it.

I don’t say anything while he’s calming down; I know that he needs to be the one to lead whatever is happening here. After what feels like an eternity, he seems to come back to himself. He puts his hand on my thigh and takes a steadying breath.

“I’m sorry,” he says, but whatever was going to come next gets stuck on the way out.

“What happened?” I ask, covering his hand with my own. He’s still shaking, his warm brown eyes cold, his face and hands clammy despite the warm room. I start absently stroking the back of his hand with my thumb.

“Did I ever tell you that my mom had green eyes?” he asks suddenly. I shake my head, not sure where this is going, but I’m not about to stop him.

“She, uh, she died when I was really little. Cancer.”

“I know, Shep told me when I took him to the ER.”

“Right, right, I knew that. So, um, since I was so little, I don’t really remember much from that time. I mean, I remember her laying in a hospital bed, and I remember my dad trying to pretend he wasn’t freaking out, and watching my brother Thomas become a second mom _basically_ overnight, since my dad wasn’t really holding it together really well.

“But the clearest memory of her I have was in that hospital bed a few days before she died. She sat me down, and looked right at me with these big green eyes and she told me ‘Travis, one day you’re gonna find someone that you love, and who loves you. You have to fight for that love, no matter what, understand?’ And when I met Abby, I thought that I found that love she was talking about, and God help me, I fought for it.” His voice catches, and he takes a second to steady himself.

“When I watched Abby die right in front of me, I felt every ounce of fight fall out of me. I had lost the person I was supposed to fight for, so what was the point, right? And I mean eventually, I got that fight back, but it was for my family, you know? I put on an act so I could at least pretend to them that I was fine. But I knew I was done.

“When I was in that ring with you, I knew why we were there. We were trying to help your brother, and I was trying to keep my family’s nose clean. But then when you pinned me, and I looked up at you, it was--” he breaks off, starting to cry. I hold his hand tighter. “It was like I was looking at my mom that night, and all I could hear was her telling me to fight. Then all I could hear were gunshots, and I swear I just went limp. I couldn’t do it anymore. Right there, in the middle of the ring, I was ashamed for not fighting hard enough for Abby, and I knew I couldn’t tell anyone, because no one would understand.

“But _you_ understand, Dean. I know you do. You lost someone too, you know what that does to a person. I just--I felt so ashamed. I gave up on Abby that night, I know I did.”

And I have to stop him. I have to cut him off, I have to. I don’t know what else to do, so I pull him tight against my chest, both of our bruises be damned, and he just starts sobbing into my shirt. But I don’t care; I hold him and rock him as long as he needs, and he’s holding onto me like if he lets go even a little, he’ll crumble into pieces and never be seen again. I stroke his back and let him cry it out, and I try my damndest not to lose it too. He was right; I know exactly what this feels like, feeling like I let Cas down, that I wasn’t there for him when he needed me most. That guilt isn’t the kind that can fade, because it’s the last memory of us I have together. 

I get why he froze; I understand the shame he was talking about. The difference is, I’m not judging him for it the way he’s judging himself. So when Travis says he needed someone who knows how this feels? I get it. I needed it, too. I still do. 

Eventually, Travis pulls himself out of my shirt, and I loosen my grip. His eyes are clearer now, if a bit red-rimmed and puffy, and the shaking has stopped, but he still looks like there’s something bugging him.

“Travis, what is it?” I ask, taking one hand and gently cupping his face until he looks at me.

“It- it’s just that, when I say I feel guilty about giving up, I don’t just mean Abby. I mean, I _do_ , but not just about the night she died. Because when I looked up at you, and I knew that I would throw the fight too soon, I was worried about disappointing you, Dean. And in that moment, I was more worried about making things harder for you than I was about Abby, and then I felt guilty for feeling obligated to someone _other_ than Abby and I just--” he took a deep breath to keep from spiraling.

“I’m sorry if I made things harder for you, Dean. I didn’t want to disappoint you.” His voice is sincere and heartbroken and I don’t even have time to process any of what he just said because the next thing I know, Sam is bursting through the door. He takes in the scene for a minute: me and Travis practically on top of each other in his bed, his face cradled in my hand, before his mind seems to reboot.

“Dean, you need to come quick. Something’s happened to Adam.”


	10. Out Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! This chapter absolutely did not want to be written, but here it is. Hopefully writer's block won't hit me as hard next week. I'd love to hear what you think!
> 
> This week's song: [I'd Rather Make Mistakes Than Nothing At All](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ERTw5_Vfklc)
> 
> P.S. Happy Birthday Sam Winchester!

_This is so messed up but if you give me all your love it will show angels up above that we can make it out alive, God willing. I remember times when you were holding by a thread of a chance_ \- “I’d Rather Make Mistakes Than Nothing At All” by Mayday Parade

I grab Travis, and together we run until we’re sitting on the floor at Adam’s feet while he’s busy bleeding out on the couch. I mean, he’s not _actually_ bleeding out, but this whole night has my brain on backwards and while part of me wants to drag Travis back to my room and ask him what the actual hell just happened, I know that I need to keep my focus here in the present with my little brother. 

My little brother who’s bleeding. His nose is smashed and he has a black eye and his knuckles are scraped and he’s definitely wincing when he breathes too deep. 

So yet again, I ask: “What the hell happened?”

“He ran into some trouble after the fight got out,” I hear behind me, just as some dark haired stranger stalks in from my kitchen holding an ice-filled towel and pressing it to Adam’s injured face. 

“And just who the hell are you?” I ask, very pointedly not putting my hands on my hips like a put-out mother hen but I swear to god I’m starting to see double from all the whiplash tonight. 

“This is Jack. He’s from my frat. He’s just helping out,” Adam slurs out from behind a split lip. I can’t help it—my eyes roll so hard I can almost see my brain. 

“So again I ask: _what the hell happened tonight_? Who beat you up like this? That Brazil rat? One of his goons? _Who do I have to kill_?” I can feel myself starting to lose it, and I think everyone else can too because that’s when I feel Travis’ hand on my shoulder and notice Sam’s frightened expression. 

_Fuck this night_. 

“It’s late. Jack, why don’t you help Adam get cleaned up and we can all talk about it after we’ve gotten some rest.” Travis says gently. Nobody is awake enough to argue. 

Before I know what happened, I’m being led down the hall to my room, Travis trailing behind me like some bodyguard as he coaxes me to lay down and get some sleep. Before I can let myself think about it, I pull back the covers in invitation. He looks at me skeptically. 

“You’ve had a hell of a night Travis. Neither of us is awake enough to get back next door. Just lay down and go to sleep.” 

He’s still wearing a hesitant expression, even as he crosses the room to the other side of the bed. 

“We really should talk, Dean.” He says, laying down and getting comfortable. He’s on his side, the one that doesn’t hurt, facing me. I turn to face him, too, even though my ribs are screaming. 

“I know.” I tell him. “We will. Tomorrow. We’ll talk about everything tomorrow. I promise.”

As I’m drifting off to sleep, I can almost swear that a weight settles over my waist. And if I reach out to return the gesture, hey, nobody knows but me. 

——-

When I wake up in the morning, Travis’ arm is right where he left it. His face is soft with sleep, his chest rising and falling gently with every breath. Somehow, he’s got bedhead, even though his brown hair is cut short. Whatever. He’s beautiful.

And my heart is breaking, because I think I’m starting to understand what Cas meant. He told me it was okay. I was confused before, but I’m not anymore. Because laying here in bed with Travis, I don’t want to think about anything else; not Adam, not that kid Jack. Not Sam, or my parents, or whatever the hell else happened last night, because right now, Travis is sleeping. He feels safe enough to sleep, and for the first time in a long time I want to be selfish. I want to spend my day here with him, just watching over him while he sleeps so I know he’s okay.

Part of me feels like a traitor, but Cas said it was okay. I really want it to be.

A little while later, Travis stirs, his warm brown eyes slowly meeting mine. There are a thousand feelings passing over his face, and each of them feels familiar. We really _do_ know each other, know each other deeply, know each other’s past. It should probably feel scary, but all I feel is calm.

I know we need to get up. I know there’s a world outside the door. But right now there’s just me and Travis and his big brown eyes, daring me to look away. But I can’t; I won’t, and even if we haven’t said a word, I know we’ve talked about the important things. And inexplicably, I know this too: I’m not going anywhere. Not without him.

\-----

Soon enough, the outside world reminds us that we can’t just stay here in our little bubble forever. I can hear Adam coughing from the living room, and Sam’s worried face is poking through the bedroom door. I sigh and nod, but before I can turn back to Travis and finish our unspoken conversation, he’s already lifting himself gingerly from the bed. Not that I blame him; I’m moving slowly, too, and every muscle in my body is sore. I know that we’re going to be feeling this fight for weeks.

In more ways than one, it would seem.

Out in the living room, Adam’s bruises have had the chance to settle into a gross purple-green color, but most of the blood has been cleaned off and his cuts have scabbed over. His hair is still damp from a shower and he’s in fresh clothes, but his eyes are still haunted. It’s like he’s twelve again and I’m powerless to help.

Travis must feel me tense up next to him, because he reaches across and lays a gentle hand on my back. I don’t know what we’re doing or what we are, but I know that I want him here. I guess for now that’s all I have room in my head to know. The rest of me is swimming, and I have a million questions fighting for space. I guess one of them has to start.

“Adam, _please_ , what happened last night?” I ask, trying my hardest not to focus on the way that Travis’ thumb has started to stroke between my shoulder blades, nor the way that Sam casts a knowing look in our direction from where he’s leaning against the kitchen counter. 

Adam takes a minute trying to compose himself, but he still looks totally lost.

“I, uh, went back to the frat house after the fight. Or, I _tried_ to, but--”

A knock on the door interrupts whatever he was going to say. Sam walks over to the door, welcoming none other than Eileen, who has a box of coffee in one hand and a bag of what can only be bagels in the other. Sam greets her with a peck on the cheek and grabs the bag and the pair head into the kitchen.

 _What are you doing here this early?_ I ask her.

 _I think what Dean means to say is, “Thank you, Eileen, for bringing us breakfast.”_ Travis cuts in, but before I can even register that he knows sign language, I hear the heavy apartment door slam closed behind us.

What a surprise. Adam is gone.

 _He seems to do that a lot_ Eileen points out, helping Sam spread out the cream cheese and butter and plates for all of us.

 _He does_ Sam tells her.

He’s right, of course. Ever since we moved here, it feels like Adam has spent more time running from us than being with us, but for the first time, I find myself thinking about just where he could be running _to_. In my head, I see a tall brunette with secrets, and my brother with a black eye and busted fists. Enough is enough.

 _Take those to go,_ I tell the group just as they’re getting ready to eat, Adam’s vanishing act unsurprising.

 _It’s time for reinforcements_.


	11. For The Years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I hope this Saturday finds you well and that your family is safe and healthy. I'll be honest, it feels weird to be posting this chapter as it is my last one as an undergraduate student. I started writing it a year ago and now here it is, creating some consistency in a time of uncertainty. Thank you all for taking the time to read; it truly means the world to me.
> 
> Song of the week- [Just Say You're Not Into It](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IyTYw1RtbPA)
> 
> This is a good one. Never before have I felt like an ENTIRE song captures what I was going for in a chapter, until this one. Hope you enjoy :)

_So I’ll swallow my pride if you’ll stay for the years, and watch me spin circles as I disappear. And hearts, they don’t lie, they just quiver in fear_ \- “Just Say You’re Not Into It” by Mayday Parade

Travis and I leave the lovebirds behind in the apartment as we pile into Baby and start driving towards the Red. It’s a short drive but it feels like a long one, and I think we all knew without saying anything that this is one of those times where you’re supposed to take all the wrong turns to get there. Everyone knows what’s happening, but no one mentions it.

It’s like a no-hitter. Or fight club. You’re not supposed to talk about it; although, if today goes the way I think it’s going, we’re about to bring the roof down on top of the fight club. Sometimes, there’s just no more room for secrets.

So now it’s a game: will Travis say something first, or me? Who should talk first? Because we need to talk, but I’m not exactly sure what the right thing to say is; I don’t know what I’m looking for, and whatever this is feels important enough that I should probably have it figured out before I open my big mouth.

But of course, Travis beats me to it.

“We should talk, Dean.”

Helpful. Truly.

“I know.” I tell him.

The silence that follows is deafening. Usually playing chicken is fun, but this is something new and worth a whole lot more than bragging points.

Might as well start simple.

“What was that back there? In the living room?”

Travis swallows, looking guilty. “Did you not like it? Did you not _want_ it?”

“It’s not that, Trav. It’s just--it felt like a _thing,_ you know? Like ‘Hey guys, no need to pay us any attention, it’s just Dean and Travis most definitely doing a thing and actively not acknowledging the thing.’ Am I reading into it too much? I feel like I’m rambling.”

Travis chuckles, and God help me for the way it makes my chest tighten. And I most definitely do _not_ hold my breath, hoping for a specific answer. But then his face grows serious, and his breathing gets deeper, and I feel the Talk coming on, whatever Travis had in mind that he wanted us to talk about before we got in bed last night. 

Travis and his big warm eyes. I’m fucking trapped, and there isn’t a bone in my body that cares.

“I’m scared,” he says suddenly.

“Of what?”

“Of forgetting Abby. I loved her, Dean. I was gonna _marry_ her. She was it-- the next 60 years of my life, laid out in front of me: the kids, the grand kids, making my brothers’ lives hell. Then it was all gone with a gunshot. I hear that shot every night in my sleep; usually, that’s what wakes me up, seeing her bleeding out on that pavement. Lately, I’ve taken her place in the nightmare, though, so it’s me who’s been shot. When I die in the dream, I wake up. But that night in the ring, I was on the ground, thinking I was in that nightmare, and thinking about you, and I got so overwhelmed that I couldn’t think straight. It’s like I can’t keep the two of you in my head at the same time. I have to let one of you go.

“That’s what I’m scared of, Dean. I’m scared of letting Abby go, because that feels like forgetting her. But I’m also scared of letting _you_ go, because you’re alive, and you’re here, and you’re real and you’re _you_. So now it’s not so much that I have to figure out who I’m more scared to let go of-- I already know that answer. But that doesn’t make the loss of someone else hurt any less.

“I know you probably want to know what that was last night, and this morning. And I wish I could give you a clear answer, Dean, but I’ve made it a point to be an honest man. I don’t ever want to lie to you. So here’s what I can tell you: I want this to be something. A definite something, with a name and the teasing I’m sure we’ll get because that’s just what happens with the people we choose to surround ourselves with. But I also know that this... _fight_ or whatever it is in my brain needs to work itself out. I need a little time to work through that.

“But I can promise you that I’ll be on the other end of that fight, and I hope you’ll be there to meet me. I just need a little time. Right now, that’s all I know.”

He seems lighter now, and I’m glad. I’m glad he was honest, that he felt comfortable and safe enough with me to be honest, especially in the middle of whatever shit show is going on around us. His pain is my pain, in more ways than one. Maybe this is perfect. Maybe this is the way it was supposed to happen, this life after Cas. This wayward soul I know as my own.

I rest my hand gently on top of his on the seat between us and turn the car more purposefully in the direction of the Red.

“For the past few months, all I’ve been able to dream about is the night Cas died: the minutes before the accident. It’s always the same song on the radio, he’s always wearing his ridiculous trench coat. He had this wild hair--it always looked like he’d just been fucked; there was no controlling it. And he had these big blue eyes that could see through anything. He _definitely_ saw through me. He pulled my head out of my ass and reminded me I had a life worth living after things got bad. But then he died, and I guess I forgot all over again. I mean, Adam is Adam, and Sam needed me and my parents needed help. I never let Jo think I was worried about her because, well, she’s Jo, but of course I did. It’s like I got so wrapped up in everyone else’s lives that I forgot about mine.

“I know what you mean, about needing time,” I say, finally pulling into the lot and putting Baby into park. I turn to face him more fully than I could when I was driving, and take his hands into mine between us, but gently, so he can pull away if he wants to. “Because I need it too. I need to remember that it’s okay to want to live, and it’s okay that I want to do that even if I can’t do it with Cas like I wanted to. Because I _do_ want this life, Travis. And I want you in it.

“We don’t need to put a label on anything right now. We’re just figuring it out. Like you said, I need a little time, too. But when I wrap my head around everything, I hope you’ll be there to meet me, too.”

And then, he does something I never expected. He leans forward, just a little, and places the softest kiss at the corner of my mouth. It’s a promise, I know it.

The corner of his lips turns up in a half smile.

“I’ll be there,” he says. And I’m gonna hold him to that.


	12. All My Problems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday! For all my fellow graduates, congratulations. I hope you find a way to celebrate. I picked this week's song just for you.
> 
> Song of the week: [Piece of Your Heart](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_zC0S8sd_0E)

_Say hello to all my problems for me. Tell them sorry I can’t be around anymore_ \- “Piece of Your Heart” by Mayday Parade

It really shouldn’t surprise me that the first thing my mother does when she sees my face is drag me by the collar to her office in the back of the bar, Travis and my dad trailing behind us, the door clicking closed with a hard and ominous ‘thud.’ My mom falls into her desk chair with a grunt, and Travis and I nervously sit in the two opposite her. They’re hard and plastic and make me feel just about as uncomfortable as humanly possible, which seems pretty on par for how this conversation will probably go. Dad’s standing behind us, leaned up against the office door so no one can just burst in. His arms are crossed over his chest, and I can feel his eyes burning through the side of my head.

“Dean Henry Winchester, what in the holiest hell happened to your face?” she asks, pinching the bridge of her nose, like whatever I’m about to say is already giving her a headache. I look to Travis with a pleading expression, but he’s just as nervous as me.

“Aren’t you going to ask what happened to Travis’ face?”

She doesn’t even blink. “I’m not responsible for Travis. I am responsible for you. So I will ask again: what the actual fuck happened to you, son?”

“We-- Travis and me, I mean-- we kinda got pulled into a fight last night. Well, I guess not _kinda_ and we didn’t exactly get _pulled_ in, though I guess in a way we did--”

“Dean,” Dad cuts me off mercifully, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Everything is okay. We just want to know what happened. Start from the beginning. _Slowly_.”

Travis puts his hand on my knee, and it helps, if only a little. “I started following Adam around a few weeks ago-- he was disappearing at weird times, always running off somewhere. I was getting worried. So I tracked him down to this frat house off campus, where I guess he was in the middle of rushing, which he never told us. But when I found him in that house, it looked like him and the other pledges had been locked in dog cages or something.

“Anyway, the leader of the frat, this Brazil kid, starts yelling at Adam, says he has to face punishment. That’s how I got pulled into the fight. They said I got in the middle of Adam’s rush, that I needed to pay his debt so he could stay in the frat. I figured, this was something he really wanted, something he was fighting for on his own, it was my job to help fix it since I fucked it up. Brazil said that if I won the fight, Adam’s debt would be forgiven. But--”

“And how did you end up at the fight, Travis?” my mom interjects.

“Dean and I were together when Dean went to the frat house, but he was taking so long to come back out that I got worried and went in after him. The frat guys found me and figured I would do. My older brothers used to be students at Eastern, and they were part of a rival frat. I guess it was a bad blood situation.”

“And who won last night?” She asks, since the answer isn’t abundant just by looking at us; we’re both pretty roughed up.

“I did,” I tell them.

“So why did you come in here like a dog with his tail between his legs?” Dad asks.

“Because I don’t think it was enough,” I tell them honestly. There’s no reason to bring up what happened with Travis; that stuff is too personal. “Yeah, I won, but the fight was over really fast. I guess Brazil had a lot of guys betting on Travis, I don’t know. But something _definitely_ happened after the fight was over because Adam came home last night beaten to a bloody pulp with this other kid, Jack, and neither one of them would tell us what happened.”

“Adam was going to talk to us about it this morning, but he bolted before we got the chance,” Travis adds, looking nervous.

“And this Jack kid? Where is he?” Mom asks.

“I’ve got the feeling that’s where he’s been running to the past few months.” I say. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you guys about this sooner. I just thought that if I handled this quietly it would all go away and Adam could finally feel better about something. But I was there in that basement last night, Mom, and again in our living room. Nothing about this is right.”

“So I take it this fight is why practically my entire staff was suddenly unavailable last night?”

All I can offer her is a sheepish expression, which she takes with an appreciative nod.

“Well, alright. It sounds like this is as handled as it can be until Adam decides to come home. Sam knows about all this?” At my nod, she continues. “Okay then. Come on, let’s get you two a drink. I have a feeling that damn fool Garth really is gonna step in it today, and I don’t want to miss it.”

My parents file out of the office, with Travis and me following behind them. Travis puts his arm out around my hips gently, and true to form, my mom notices. Even though we’re behind her.

“And then you two can tell me what the hell’s going on between you.”

“Seriously?”

“Hell yes, Dean. See, there’s a pool going, and I want to know how much I won.”

\-----

Apparently, we picked a good day to come to the bar. Everyone is here: Kieron, Ray, Cami, Ash, Garth, even my Uncle Rufus who helps out at Dad’s garage now and then. With the exception of him, everyone working was at the fight last night, and I can see from the shifting glances going around that they all know what Travis and I were talking to my mom about, and I can feel their silent support like a wall building up behind me that I can put my weight on.

It’s nice, feeling like there’s a group of people who want to protect each other. It’s even nicer knowing that I’m part of it.

Mercifully, Mom retires back to her office without really interrogating me and Travis. I’m glad. I think she could tell that whatever this is is new; good, yeah, in all the ways it’s undefined, but definitely new. Too new to talk about. Too open-ended. Maybe when we settle, maybe when it’s a “boyfriends” thing rather than a “figuring it out” thing, we’ll tell people. For now, it feels good to be with the right people, and with Travis’ hand gently stroking up at down at my knee; a reminder that he’s still here, just like he promised. And maybe that’s his way of reminding himself that I’m keeping my promise, too, like it’s all still real and there if he can touch me. Touch me like he can’t touch Abby. Maybe it’s helping. I don’t know. But I know it feels good, being here with him like this, and I don’t want it to stop.

A little while later, I’m still nursing my Pepsi when Sam and Eileen come in and make their way to the bar. I would ask what took them so long, but I can see the way Eileen’s hair is mussed up and the remnants of flush on Sam’s cheeks as he fails at being casual about the arm that he throws around the back of her chair. I take a sip and try to hide my smile.

Thank God for that woman. Seriously.

Travis and I share a look, and I know he’s thinking the same thing.

 _I talked to Mom and Dad,_ I tell them, and Sam nods in appreciation. Behind the kitchen counter, it’s easy to see the way Ash is looking out at Garth, who is busy bussing tables in the far corner of the floor. He’s trying to psyche himself up, clearly, and it’s just so freaking adorable to watch. Especially when Ash practically jumps back to the grill the second Garth turns back towards the kitchen.

 _Damn it_ , Sam says, taking a long sip of the water Cami put in front of him. _Any day now_.

 _I don’t know_ , Cami says. _We’ve been saying that for months_.

Travis shrugs. _Who knows? Sometimes things can change unexpectedly_. And I definitely do not start to blush when his arm settles across the back of my chair.

Of course not. That would be ridiculous.

It’s Eileen who breaks the silence that settles over us. _So what exactly is the plan here?_

Travis and I absolutely do not shrug in unison. _I’m not sure. There’s nothing we really_ can _do until Adam talks to us about what happened._

Just then, the bell above the door dings, and a familiar voice chimes in behind us.

“Actually, I might be able to help with that.”


	13. To Be Real

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Happy Sunday. Sorry for the late post this week; sometimes life just works out that way. See you all next weekend :) 
> 
> Song of the Week: [Without the Bitter, the Sweet Isn't As Sweet](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WpBBKZ2_4_E)

_I'll be okay, I could go on for days, but I just don't have the courage that it takes to be real_

_And even if it's dark at least we'll be together, slowly sinking in the earth to lay forever_

_You better grab a hold and hold on for your life because you don't get lucky twice, no, you don't get lucky twice_ \- “Without the Bitter, The Sweet Isn’t As Sweet” by Mayday Parade

When we turn around, Jack is looking at us all from under his eyebrows, like a dog with his tail between his legs. His brown hair is ruffled like he’s been trying to pull it out, and he’s shifting his weight back and forth between his feet. 

Travis pulls out the stool next to him, gesturing for Jack to join us at the bar. I call my mom back to the front of the bar with my dad, and Cami tactfully makes herself scarce, even though everyone at the bar will know everything that happened eventually; it’s just a matter of time.

And Eileen, as done with all of our shit as always, is the one to break the awkward silence that falls over us.

“Talk.” is all she says. Jack looks like he wants to crawl in a hole and die. Mom places a large glass of water in front of him, and he gulps down the whole thing before he speaks. I feel about as tense as a live wire, even with Travis’ steady hand on my thigh.

“So, um, Adam isn’t okay. I mean, he’s _okay_ , but not okay, I’m sorry that wasn’t--”

“Jack,” my dad interrupts mercifully. “We know that Adam isn’t okay. Just tell us what happened last night.”

Jack gulps again. “So last night, Brazil was pretty pissed when Dean beat Travis--” he glances over at us nervously, taking in how we’re sitting together.

“Clearly we didn’t mind. Say what you’ve got to say, Jack.” Travis tells him.

“Right. So even though Dean won, which is what Brazil told Adam he wanted so that Adam’s debt could be repaid or whatever, he actually had a lot of money on Travis. A _lot_ of people had money on Travis. So now there’s probably going to be a collector coming to town making more trouble for everyone, and Brazil’s got Adam convinced it was all his fault. And, well, he made sure Adam wouldn’t forget it,” he says, and we all know that he means that’s where Adam got that beating.

“This is all my fault,” I muse aloud. I tried to help Travis but all it did was bring trouble down on Adam. Again. It’s always fucking Adam; no matter what I do to help, I always make things worse.

No one tries to convince me otherwise, even if it looks like they all want to, because they know that nothing they have to say will convince me otherwise. But beside me, I notice that Travis has gone tense. _Really_ tense; his eyes are somewhere far away.

“Travis?” I ask, shaking him gently. He seems to startle back to awareness, but the hard lines in his body don’t ease. Instead, he turns to face Jack.

“That collector-- it’s for Benny, isn’t it? That damn frat got Benny involved as a benefactor?”

My heart stops. “You mean--”

“Yeah. Him,” Travis says, barely looking at me over my shoulder. I put my hand over the one he as resting on my thigh. At the mention of Benny’s name, Camille ditches any sense she had of propriety and joins our little huddle, quickly followed by Kieron and Raegan. The rest of my family is looking at Travis like he’s grown two heads, and I feel him steady himself for what he’s about to say.

Jack looks like he would really prefer being offered up as a sacrifice right now.

“Alright, here’s what’s happening right now. If I wasn’t already personally invested before in taking down Brazil, which I was, I sure as shit am now. That piece of shit Brazil got himself twisted up in is Benny Carlisi, well-known crime boss around here, if you know where to look. Less than a year ago, he killed my fiancee because she was two grand short paying off her father’s debt. And then he turned around and killed her father, too. Hell, I barely made it out of there. The only reason I’ve never gone after him before is that he vanished before the dust settled that night, and I was never able to pick up a trail. But now we know where he’s gonna have some pawns, and we just might be able to get him out of the woodwork. 

“Benny doesn’t get to come here and fuck things up for another family. Not one that I care about. Not one that’s already been though hell. So now the Maddoxes are personally invested. All of us,” he says, looking at Cami, who meets him with a grave nod. I know what he’s about to say, but I beat him to it.

“So just to be clear: we intend on knocking down two pillars of a very well-established seedy fraternity underbelly institution?”

Cami shrugs. “They hurt your brother and killed Travis’ fiancee,” she says, as if that solves everything and it’s all she needs to know. Around the circle, everyone nods their assent to this plan.

“Well it’s great that we’re all agreed, but there’s still a big part that we’re missing: _how_? How are we going to pull this off?” I ask.

“I think I might be able to help with that,” Jack adds. “It’s like you said, Travis. We would be taking down an institution that has existed here for decades. To do that, you’re going to need someone on the inside. Let me do that-- I’m already in the frat. I can let you guys know what Brazil’s next moves are, what he’s doing, where he’s gonna be. Please, let me help.”

“Jack,” my dad says, “We can’t let you do that, son. Not when we’ve seen what they can do.”

 _I hate to say it Dad, because I agree with you, but I think we’re gonna need him_ , Sam adds. This seems to give Jack renewed energy.

“See, it’s like you said. I’m personally invested. They hurt someone I l- care about. Someone I care about. Please, let me help. I know I can help.” But I know all my dad heard was that little slip, if the shit-eating grin on his face is anything to go by.

“So you ‘care about’ my boy, do you?” he asks.

“Y-Yes, sir. Of course I do.”

“Then are you the person he’s been running off to for the past several months?”

“Yes, sir. I am. He’s been spending a lot of time at my apartment trying to cool down. He, uh, well I guess you already know, he gets angry a lot.”

“Really?!” We all ask in unison. I add in a huge eye-roll, just for flare.

“Right. Of course you guys know that. Well, yeah, he’s been coming to see me since we started at the frat. And this morning I guess he was supposed to talk to you all about what happened last night and he just freaked out so he came to my place again and passed out on my couch. That’s why I came here. He can’t keep doing this. I keep offering to help him but he won’t let me. But I can’t keep watching him get hurt.”

“So you called in reinforcements,” I say, not even trying to hide how impressed I am with this vibrating mass. Any judgements I may have had just went right out the window. I stand and walk over to his side, offering him a handshake that he takes unsteadily.

“Any friend of my brother’s is a friend of mine. That includes boyfriends. I’m glad he’s got you looking out for him.”

He looks at me with big, wide eyes. “I’m not--we, we’re not-” but I hold my hand up in front of him to shut him up.

“Jack, please. Don’t even try. We can all see it.”

“You two are like Garth and Ash with this ridiculous game of chicken,” Raegan tells him. “Trade secret: no one likes to swerve. Get the guts to crash into him. Everything gets way less complicated when you stop avoiding the obvious and inevitable,” and she looks at Kieron with this perfect gleam in her eye.

I return to my seat just as Adam turns to go. “I, uh, I should probably get back. If Adam wakes up alone, he’s gonna be pissed.”

I chuckle. “He’s always pissed. Go get ‘im, loverboy.”

Jack practically runs out of the bar with a chorus of wolf whistles at his back. Travis arm reaches behind my shoulders and I lean into his broad chest. Then, a thought occurs to me.

“Travis, how exactly are we going to get your family involved? You have brothers out in California and Colorado, right? Benny is familiar with your family, and he’s obviously been keeping an eye on things in town, so how can you get them all here without making him suspicious?”

Cami and Travis share a wicked expression over the bar, clearly sharing the same thought.

“Dean, how would you like to be my date to a wedding?”


	14. You Could Be My Compass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again everyone! The hiatus is over! Here is another (longer!) chapter for you. I hope you enjoy :)
> 
> This week's song- [Happy Endings Are Stories That Haven't Ended Yet](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZEL6ojDVwaM)

_You could be my compass, teach me how to read these broken lines. Hold me like a lover, we’ll find a way to run away tonight. Tell me when it’s over, promise that you’ll always keep me in mind -_ “Happy Endings Are Stories That Haven’t Happened Yet” by Mayday Parade

“This still feels like a bad idea,” I tell Travis from the bathroom, trying helplessly to get my bow-tie to sit straight. Travis, seeing my struggle, comes to join me from where he was tying his shoes at the end of the bed. He’s got a look of pity and amusement on his face that shouldn’t be as cute as it is, but it’s Travis. I’m pretty much powerless.

“Dean, you said so yourself- we need the help. My family is personally involved, and it just so happens that right when we need them, they’re coming into town for the least conspicuous reason ever!”

“Yeah, your **__**_brother’s wedding_ , Trav.”

“That doesn’t make it a bad idea, Dean,” he says, successfully straightening out my tie, failing to hide a triumphant little smirk. “They’ll want to help, trust me. Tyler and Ellie won’t be mad.”

“Maybe, but it still feels like a _wrong_ idea,” I grumble under my breath. Travis looks less than impressed. 

“Look, Dean, whatever happens is gonna happen, but whatever that is, we’re gonna deal with it _together_ , okay? And that means I’m getting my family involved, even if you won’t, because Adam is your family. Whatever we are now, whatever we call it, we’re a package deal; I know that much. And if there’s one thing my family understands, it’s that. They’ll stand behind us and do everything they can, I promise.” And then he puts his hands on my shoulders and looks me dead in the eye. “You’re not in this alone, I promise. We’re gonna get Adam out of this.”

And I don’t know what it is- the faith he has, the look in his eyes, the fact that we’re together without a name, or the fact that he looks damn good in a suit and he makes my knees weak when he’s trying to protect me- all I know is that in that moment, I have to kiss him.

So I do.

It’s warm and soft and right, and there’s a hint of stubble brushing against my fingers where they hold his chin, afraid to do much more than breath. We keep it small and smile through it, and I can feel the tension draining out of both of us with every press of his lips against mine. When his alarm goes off sometime later, we break apart and his eyes are gleaming.

“Alright, Winchester. Let’s go stir up some trouble.”

\-----

Tyler and Ellie decided to get married in the backyard at the Maddox place. Jim’s health wasn’t the greatest, and it was easier for the guests to fly in than it would have been for Jim to go somewhere else. The wedding was set for the following morning, so tonight was the rehearsal dinner. Sure, I’m only there ostensibly as a date, and Travis and I have a much bigger agenda going on this weekend, but still. This was Travis’ _family_ I’m meeting. One of the first things I learned growing up was that first impressions are important; I’m not about to blow this now.

When we pull up to the Maddox’s place, there are a few more cars in the driveway, more lights on, and more noise carrying out into the yard, where I’m standing with Travis and desperately hoping to just disappear into a tiny hole. And of course, because he’s Travis, he can tell. He squeezes my hand and turns to me.

“Dean, what’s wrong?”

“I’m nervous,” I admit. “I mean, I already know your dad and Shep, and Trent and Cami. But I’ve never met Thomas or the twins and I know they’re really important to you and I just-”

“Dean. Slow down, you’re spiraling.”

He’s right. I take a deep breath, trying to center myself. “It’s just, we haven’t really said what we are. And I mean, for the past week, you know, that’s been great. Just being together without having to call it anything. It’s been easy, it’s been effortless. But I don’t think I can do that anymore. I don’t think I can walk into your family home with your dad and your brothers and their girlfriends and be what we’ve been this past week.”

Travis looks at me evenly, his breath just short of too calm. I’m probably freaking him out. “Say what you’re saying Dean. I swear I’ll listen.”

“What I’m saying is that everything is crazy right now- Adam, Benny, everything around us. And everything in that crazy just feels too real to be walking into a family wedding as anything less than boyfriends.”

“Dean, if you’re just doing this because you’re afraid of what my brothers will say--” Travis is looking worried now, his grip on my hand getting tighter.

“That’s not- I’m sorry. That’s not why I’m doing this. I’m sorry I wasn’t more clear.” Another deep breath. “What I mean is, everything around us is absolutely out of control, but you’re not. You’re clear, you’re focused. You’re not confused. Sure, you’re partly helping Adam because he’s my brother, but I know that you would be doing this even if I weren’t part of the equation. I know how _good_ you are, Travis. I know how loving you are, and how silly you can be, and how you never back down from a fight, especially if it’s for a good reason.

“I know that even though everything around us is spinning, you’re like a compass, guiding the rest of us. You’re the center. I am in awe of you, of your character, your integrity. And I’m pretty sure it would be the greatest honor of my whole fucking life after getting adopted if you would walk into that house with me as my boyfriend.”

Before I know what happened, Travis has one hand cupping my face and one wrapped around my hips and he’s kissing me like I’m air and he’s drowning. I don’t think he understands that he’s been my life raft this entire time. I try to tell him by kissing him back, pressing our chests together until I can feel his heartbeat next to mine. 

We break apart when we hear wolf whistles coming from the front porch.

“Come on, lovebirds, dinner’s getting cold,” Trent calls, wrapping his arm around Cami’s shoulders and leaving the front door open behind him as he guides her snickering form back inside.

I try to look back at Travis, but my ears are ringing and I’m pretty sure my face is on fire. But then he huffs his breathless laugh, absolutely incredulous, and I can’t help but join him. If we weren’t dressed for a festive evening, I’m almost positive we would be rolling around on the lawn together.

Eventually the laughs subside and it’s just me and him looking at each other. Travis’ eyes are bigger and browner and softer than I’ve ever seen, and I can feel myself getting breathless just at the sight of him. Gently, he takes my face in his hands again, his brown eyes the only thing left in the entire universe.

“Dean Winchester, you are the greatest person I have ever known. Your strength makes my knees go weak. You are dauntless in your love of your family, and in how you look out for them. You are a vision. Your heart is a triumph. I am in awe of you. Every day you give me an example of the kind of person I aspire to be. I love you. Of course I’ll be your boyfriend.”

And then it’s a quiet kiss- the gentle kind, the kind that’s full of promise, promises for what will come later. I never want it to end.

“Okay _seriously_ , can you guys stop making out for like five minutes? Dinner is getting cold,” Trent comes barking out from the front porch again.

“Alright, shitstain, we’re coming,” Travis calls, chuckling to himself. He holds his hand out to me, and it’s warm as he threads his fingers through mine.

And as he’s guiding me up to his family’s home, towards tonight and the plan and whatever comes next, there’s only one thought I have room for in my head.

_All my fortunes at thy feet I’ll lay, and follow thee my lord throughout the world._

\-----

I never really had the chance to get to know Cas’ family. By the time we met, he was an emancipated minor, and his only known relative, his brother Gabriel, had been missing for years. The only time I ever met him was at Cas’ funeral. So being introduced to boyfriends’ families is not exactly an area that I have a lot of positive experiences with.

I think Travis can feel my nervous energy making my palm sweaty. He holds on tighter.

“Everything is gonna be okay, Dean.”

Walking in, I’m struck at how warm and loud the place is; not in an annoying way, but one that shows that people live in this house and are happy to be having dinner together. It feels nice. Of course, the second we walk up to the dining room we’re met with wolf whistles from Travis’ brothers and a big smile on his dad’s face.

If I’m honest, Jim’s reaction kinda throws me.

I turn my attention to the rest of Travis’ family: I can only guess that the man sitting towards the end of the table is Thomas, because he looks nothing like the rest of them. Travis always told me that Thomas was the only one to take after their mom. Across from Thomas are the twins, Taylor and Tyler, and I already know that I will have trouble telling them apart. Identical twins are one thing, but Travis’ brothers even have matching tattoos. That is just not fair.

I can see Thomas looking me over with an appraising look, so I try my hardest not to appear like I’m panicking. Instead, I offer him my hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Thomas. I’m Dean.” His grip is firm and he meets me with a sharp nod. Clearly not a man of many words. I guess that’s fine.

“So Dean,” one of the twins butts in, “since you were just sucking face with our baby brother in the front yard, can I assume you’re gonna be at my wedding tomorrow?”

So this is Tyler, then. “Yes, hi. Sorry about that. It’s nice to meet you, Tyler.”

“I’m not sorry,” Taylor chuckles, leaning back. “It’s been a while since Travis has done anything like that. I think you might just be exactly what he needs, Deano.”

“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” Travis says, coming to my rescue and pulling out chairs for us. “Leave my boyfriend alone. I thought you guys were pissed about dinner getting cold.”

The twins grumble their assent, quickly serving and passing around the fixings for what looks like a beast of a spaghetti dinner. Then, a thought occurs to me.

“Isn’t Shepley supposed to be here too?”

Trenton rolls his eyes. “Jo called a little while ago.”

Ahh. That explains it.

“I can’t believe that kid,” Tyler says around a mouthful of spaghetti. “Bailing on my rehearsal dinner to go get lucky with some chick.”

“That chick is my sister,” I tell him, not doing anything to hide the warning in my voice.

“And you two have teased him long enough about being single,” Thomas chimes in from down the table. His voice is calm and quiet. I know that tone- it’s a big brother voice. I’m glad to know that, at least for now, he seems to be on my side. I know how it feels to be part of a tight knit family unit; nothing messes with that. Not even new partners.

That settled, Travis turns the conversation another way.

“Where are the girls, anyway?” he asks. Looking around, I can tell he’s right. Cami and Ellie aren’t here, and neither are Liis and Falyn, Thomas’ wife and Taylor’s girlfriend.

“Down at the Red,” Trent tells us.

“It’s still weird to think of that place without Hank and Jorie,” Taylor laments.

“The new owner is my mom.”

Taylor looks surprised. “Damn, Dean- you’re with our brother, your sister is with our cousin, and your mom is Cami’s new boss? Seems like you really got yourself integrated here.”

“Don’t forget that his dad is Shep’s boss,” Travis adds.

“And that my parents live next door.”

“God help them,” the rest of the table chimes in.

The rest of the night passes easily enough- dinner goes over well, so does the game of poker that follows. It seems this is less of an actual rehearsal dinner than just the family spending some much needed time together. They’re a close family, that much is obvious. They might live far apart, but they still care about each other. Knowing that Travis still has this even after losing his mom makes me happier than I thought it would. This kind of dynamic feels familiar to me, like all the dinners I imagined at my house without Adam’s rage and Sam’s silence. It’s like I’m living out a fantasy. It makes my heart ache.

When it’s become clear that we’re all letting Tyler win, we call the game.

“Consider the cash you just hustled from me your wedding gift,” Thomas concedes with a laugh.

As we clear the cards and the beers and snacks from the table, Jim turns to Tyler. “So who all are we picking up from the airport tomorrow?”

The twins share an unreadable look. “Actually about that, Dad. It looks like there was some big work crisis back home so most of the guys won’t be able to make it. It’s just going to be our friend Trex, his wife and their daughter.”

A work crisis that can take out a whole group of wedding guests? Basically _all_ of the wedding guests? “What exactly is it that you do, Tyler?”

Again, one of those unreadable looks. “Ad exec,” he says evenly. _Too_ evenly. I know that tone.

Travis’ brother is lying. And judging from the looks going around the table, everyone else knows it too. 

Too tired to handle much else, Travis’ dad takes off upstairs to go to bed while the rest of us clean up and wait for the girls to get back from the bar. When we’re all settled in the living room listening to some random movie on the TV for background noise, I look at Tyler.

“Okay, I know you don’t know me. But cut the crap. I know you were lying back there. What is it? Are you just trying to protect your dad? How bad is it?”

I feel Travis' hand on my thigh drawing my attention while the rest of the brothers have a silent conversation. They’re trying to guess whether I’m worthy or not. To think that Travis would hide something like this hurts, but I guess we haven’t known each other long enough to really know _everything_ about each other. It doesn’t feel like he lied; it just feels like he was hoping this situation wouldn’t pop up so soon. Especially when we came here tonight with our own agenda. Maybe that help we were hoping for won’t be found here.

After a few minutes, it seems like the brothers have made up their minds. Thomas gets a chair from the kitchen, arranging himself so that we’re all in a circle as Travis turns to fully face me.

“Okay, Dean. You were right- Tyler lied to Dad. He and Taylor aren’t ad execs out in Colorado- they’re firefighters. And so are all of their friends. Ty and Ellie planned the wedding to be late enough that the fire season should be over, but global warming’s a bitch and now there’s a giant blaze going right through central Colorado.”

“Hell, the only reason we’re not there right now is this wedding,” Taylor adds.

“But why lie to your dad?” 

“Because our dad was a cop. We promised him that we wouldn’t do anything too risky or dangerous; after Mom, he was a wreck. He couldn’t deal with the thought of losing anyone else. But this is what we do, it’s what we’re good at. We love it too much to give it up.”

“So you just live hundreds of miles away instead.”

“But they’re not the only ones,” Thomas says quietly, head hanging low. “What I do is worse, because I actually _am_ a cop.”

“Oh please, you’re an agent with the FBI,” Tyler snorts. “That hardly makes you a cop.”

My head feels like it’s spinning. “So you’ve all known about each others’ secrets this entire time?”

That’s when the group’s easy smiles and teasing fade into somber frowns.

“No,” Travis says gravely. “It all came out when Abby died. Thomas was tracking Benny- he was there when it happened.”

Taylor looks haunted. Tyler lets out a heavy sigh. “And when that happened, we knew we couldn’t lie to Travis anymore.”

“You told the truth when it counted, that’s all that matters,” Trenton says firmly. Clearly, this has been an issue between the brothers for a long time.

The air between all of us is tense for a long time. I’m not sure how much time passes- it could be minutes or hours. All I can focus on is Travis’ hand on my thigh and the thought that these men could just as easily have been my brothers too, carrying heavy secrets and cracking under the weight. 

“Look, Dean,” Thomas finally says, sitting up straight and just _oozing_ big-brother energy. “The reason we told you all of that is because even though we only just met, we trust you. We didn’t trust Travis or Abby enough to be there for them when it really counted; we thought they were young and foolish, and that superficial judgement left them vulnerable when it didn’t have to. We’re not going to make that mistake again. So if Travis trusts you enough to want you in his life, then you’re part of our family. We’ve got your back, whatever you need.”

Around us, the rest of Travis’ brothers nod in agreement. Maybe this will be easier than I thought. I look at Travis out of the corner of my eye, and I can tell he’s thinking the same thing. Actually, with Thomas secretly being FBI, and linked to Benny, this could be great.

When I tell Travis’ brothers about what’s been going on with Adam, and our plans to take down the frat, they actually start to laugh. At first, I think they’re teasing me, thinking that this plan is ridiculous, but Thomas can read the look on my face and is quick to jump in.

“Dean, we have been thinking about that same thing for _years_. I’m laughing because of course the day we meet Travis’ boyfriend, and the night before Tyler’s fucking wedding, we all finally get on the same page.”

“Taylor and I were in that frat. They’re fucked up. We wanted to do something about it years ago, but we were too chicken-shit back then,” Tyler laments.

“You literally run into wildfires. I’m pretty sure that qualifies as the opposite of chicken shit,” I tell him.

“Call it over-compensating.”

Travis turns to me then. “Okay. So your family and my family are all on board with this. We’ve got the manpower, and we have someone on the inside, but now we need to actually come up with a plan.”

“How are we going to do that?” I ask.

“Leave the plan part to my wife,” Thomas assures with a smirk. I’m starting to think it’s a biological similarity all of the Maddoxes share. If he’s so confident in her abilities, it leaves me wondering where exactly they met. Then again, if I’ve learned anything tonight it’s that it’s sometimes better not to ask.

“And how exactly are we going to get everyone together on this? Benny is keeping an eye on things in town. We have to keep a low profile.”

After thinking for a moment, Tyler looks at me and smiles. “You know, Dean, a bunch of tables are suddenly free at my wedding tomorrow. I don’t think it would be weird at all to extend some last minute invitations; afterall, we don’t want all that food going to waste. I think it would be a great way to meet our new neighbors and spend some time with old friends. I’m sure we’ll have a lot to talk about.”

Just then, we can hear the tell-tale sound of car doors slamming in the driveway, and the sounds of several women chatting and laughing as they approach the house.

“Yeah, I’m sure we will.”


End file.
